Bitten
by CupcakeSprinkles14
Summary: Werewolves/Vampires: On the night of Peeta's eighteenth birthday, he and his friends are attacked by a wolf and dragged into the woods where they are sure they are going to die. When the pack leader, Cato, lays eyes on Peeta, they are spared, but not allowed to leave the pack grounds. They are trapped but why were they spared? And why does Peeta feel like he's been here before?
1. A Birthday Walk

_**A/N: Believe it or not, the idea for this story spawned from a dream I had. It's really weird. I just woke up and thought, "Man, that would make a good fanfiction." Although I had to leave pretty quickly this morning and scribble down the jist of it in the car before it left me. Still, here's chapter one! **_

_**Remember to review! Reviews are the oil to my writing cogs! Without feedback they go rusty!**_

_**Warnings (for entire story, not just this chapter): Supernatural creatures-i.e vampires and werewolves but **__**NOT **__**in the Twilight sense. Free-for-all sexuality, maybe future non-con, violence, swearing.**_

_**Disclaimer: I don't own the Hunger Games.**_

**Chapter One: A Birthday Walk**

"You invited Delly?" Madge's voice wasn't angry, nor was it annoyed. It was simply ladened down with exhaustion.

Katniss smiled weakly. "I'm sorry," she said. "She asked me what I was doing and I couldn't just say we were going out without her, could I?"

Madge groaned and slid further down her seat in the car. Her irritance was almost comical but not to the point that either Peeta or Katniss would laugh. If they laughed, they risked having their mating organs ripped from their bodies by their best friend's bare hands.

Delly was a handful, which was why she hadn't been initially invited in the first place but now, it seemed, she was most definitely coming along. Peeta didn't mind. In fact, he just wanted this whole day to be over and done with for another year.

"Oh my god," Madge said. "This just took a turn for a worst. We're going to have Peppy Cartwright up our asses this whole trip."

"It's Peeta's birthday, Madge, and he doesn't seem too bothered about it," Katniss pointed out.

"I'm learning to take things as they come," Peeta replied. He craned his neck around to look into the back seat at his friends. "I mean, we're going to have to walk twenty six miles to the city anyway. Maybe Delly will help brighten the walk."

Katniss stood up, hunching her shoulders so she didn't hit the roof of the car and leaned forward to tap the gas meter. "For the love of god, how much worse can things get?" she muttered.

"So we have to walk a couple of miles, so what?" Madge said. "It's not the end of the world."

"A couple of miles?" Peeta repeated. "Madge, twenty six miles is not a couple of miles." Not that he was complaining, things honestly couldn't get any worse. Sure, normally a couple of things went wrong on his birthday, nothing was perfect, but everything on this particular day seemed to be going down to shit.

"Think of it this way," said Madge. "At least the car is telling us that it's not going to work now rather than when we're cruising down the road. I don't know about you two but I'm not too keen on asking to use a guy's phone only to find out that he's some pyscho surgeon who wants to experiment on us."

Peeta shook his head. "I knew I shouldn't have let you watch that movie," he said.

Katniss sat back down in her seat, her hands immediately going to her seatbelt. A force of habit, Peeta supposed. "We could just offer Delly to the guy and run," she suggested.

Madge laughed. "Yes, I like that plan." Speaking of the devil, there she was. Delly was a hard girl to miss. She was currently hurrying across the road in killer heels with a neon pink feather boa tied around her neck. "Oh my god."

Delly waved when she saw them looking and climbed into the passenger seat of the car. "Hello!" she said cheerfully. "Happy Birthday Peet!" She leaned forward and pecked his cheek, handing him a beautifully wrapped present. Of course, the wrapping paper was pink.

"Aw, thanks Dell, you shouldn't have," Peeta replied. He traced his finger along the patterns on the paper, admiring the intricacy.

"I wasn't going to show up empty handed now, was I?" Delly trilled. She climbed onto her knees on the seat and leaned into the back to kiss Katniss and Madge's cheeks as well. Both girls tried not to recoil or pull faces at the odd gesture. They treated Delly like she was a foreigner, by respecting her customs and not insulting them.

Peeta's eyes fell on Delly's shoes and he winced. They were extremely high, the heel spiked with metal points. "Do you have a second pair of shoes, Delly?" he asked.

Delly shrugged. "I've got my dancing shoes. I don't wear them too often though because they're too small and make my toes bleed. Why?"

"It's just . . . the car, it doesn't have any gas, my brother forgot to fill it up, so we're . . . we're walking to the city . . ."

"Oh, that's fine," said Delly. "I've walked my way home in these bad boys many a night. So how far is it? A mile? Two?"

"Twenty six," Katniss answered.

Delly's face fell. "Oh, well, can't say I've walked that far before," she said. Peeta kind of felt bad. They should have rang her up when they found out that the car didn't have any gas and Katniss had blurted out that she invited her along to the party. He just hadn't thought to.

"We'd totally understand if you don't want to go," Madge said, trying to sound understanding. Now, Delly could be irritating when she wanted to be-showing up places she wasn't invited to, gossiping, stirring things up just for the sake of stirring them up-but Peeta would never be as openly expressive of his distaste to her company as Madge was. But then, Madge was like that with everyone.

"No, it's fine," said Delly. "If my feet start to scream I'll take the shoes off and go bare foot."

Madge rolled her eyes. "Great," she said unenthusiastically.

Delly grinned and threw her car door open again. "Let's go!" she cheered. "It's already getting dark."

Everyone clamboured out of the car. The streets were practically deserted. There was no sound, almost like there had been an apocolypse while they had been sitting in the car and life as they knew it had been completely obliterated. District 12 wasn't the most populated of places and on Friday nights nearly everyone left for the city with their friends.

Except they had cars. Cars that were filled with gas. Cars that were filled with gas that they could use to get to the city.

"Remind me to kill your brother," Katniss moaned five miles later. Peeta felt sorry for the girls. They were in skirts and uncomfortable shoes while he was still a-okay in his sneakers and jeans. For the tenth time that night he was glad he didn't let Madge dress him for the night.

"I will put it in my list of things to remind Katniss of," said Peeta.

Delly hobbled along, her heels still on. "How far do you think we've walked?"

"Not far enough, I'd say," Madge muttered. Even though she was only wearing sandals, her dress was so tight it restricted her leg movements. "We haven't even passed the District 9 sign."

"Haven't we?" Peeta asked. He knew that they hadn't made much progress but he thought it was a little further than what Madge had just described. The sky was getting darker and the air was getting colder. Maybe walking to the city was a bad idea. "Maybe we should just go back. Spend the night at my house."

Katniss shook her head. "No, that's what we did last year."

"It was fun," Peeta protested. Watching girly movies like John Tucker Must Die and 10 Things I Hate About You with bucket loads of popcorn and sugar was a great way to spend his birthday and he wouldn't mind doing it again.

"You're eighteen now, you have to celebrate!" Delly said.

"In Europe, you'd be the legal age to drink alcohol," Madge pointed out. "You have to celebrate that."

"But we're not in Europe," Peeta frowned. "There's still three years until I can do anything like that and I'm not sure I even want to do it then." The idea of drinking alcohol and doing drugs or having sex had never attracted him at all. All he could think about was what it did to people. Inibreated them, damaged them, gave them diseases, it just didn't seem worth it for a momentary high.

A brisk air bristled past, raising the hair on the back of Peeta's neck. He got the unsettling feeling that they were being watched but when he looked over his shoulder, nothing was there. Just the damp roadside and the grassy banks that flanked it.

"You know what they say about these woods," said Delly, finally giving up on her heels and carrying them in her hand. She pointed to each side, to where the road melted into trees. Peeta hoped to god that she didn't walk on any glass or sharp stones because they weren't in the position right now to deal with that.

"What?" asked Katniss.

"They're haunted," Delly answered, trying to make her voice sound spooky.

Madge snorted. "With what? Ghosts?" she asked, her tone bored.

Delly shook her head. "No. There's old legends about vampires and werewolves who live in alliance together deep in the trees."

"What? Like Twilight shit?" Madge asked. Her voice was teasing, humouring Delly and her fantiscal story about supernatural beings. "Aren't vampires and werewolves supposed to hate each other?"

Peeta somehow found himself defending Delly. "Not all vampire and werewolf stories are based around Twilight. No one seems to think about Dracula by Ben Stoker or The Other Side by Eric Stenbock when someone mentions one or both of those supernatural beings. _No_, everyone just immediately jumps to Meyer's destruction of both monsters in her silly frilly Twilight series."

Katniss chuckled. "Okay, shimmer down you book slut," she teased.

When not being teased by his friends and called 'Peeta-pie' they very often called him the book slut of the group. He was extremely fascinated with literature and would always bring a book somewhere with him. Except for tonight because he didn't want to risk one of his books getting destroyed if it rained. Peeta didn't mind the nick name that much. In fact, he prefered it over Peeta-pie.

"The legend says that the vampires and werewolves, every eighteen years, steal a baby from its cradle and give it a lycan or vampire bite. These children are then returned and kidnapped again on their eighteenth birthday to become the leader of their community. But, some day, one of the children will be given both bites and they will become the leader forever," Delly explained.

Madge wasn't able to control her laughter. She had to stop in the middle of the road so she could bend over and get it all out. Everyone stood watching her, unable to decipher whether she was okay or physically dying on the ground. Eventually she calmed down and said breathlessly, "You're just making it up because it's Peeta's eighteenth."

"Am not!" Delly protested. "It's true!"

"I wouldn't believe that rubbish anyway," Katniss sniffed. "I don't believe in anything I can't see."

Peeta's eyebrows knitted together in a frown. "What about gravity?" he asked.

Katniss paused. Peeta could practically see the cogs turning in her mind. "I can see the effects it has. It keeps us on the ground so it is therefore real," she finally explained. Okay, fair enough.

Just as she spoke, the sky rumbled. Peeta looked up just in time for the rain to splatter his face. They all ran to the side of the road and huddled under the trees, where the downpour was less heavy due to the leaves catching the water. Peeta peered out and directed his eyes to the sky. The clouds were thick and dark grey. No way they were going to be able to walk the remaining twenty one miles. It looked like a storm was coming.

"Just fucking perfect," Madge cursed.

Delly hopped around, trying to keep her balance as she pulled her shoes back on. Peeta offered his elbow and she took it gratefully. Even though the rain had only began three minutes previous, the cold was already beginning to settle in and Peeta felt the rush of cool air through his body as it prepared itself to try and heat up. His teeth chinked together as they chattered and he felt like he was going to catch pneumonia.

"Brilliant!" Madge declared. "Just brilliant! My dress is ruined. Can this night get any worse?"

"Don't test the fates, Madge," Delly warned. For once, Madge listened. It seemed like the fates weren't to be messed with and they had made it clear through everything they had done to them over the past few hours.

"We better head back," Katniss said, saying what everyone else was thinking.

"I have Mean Girls at home?" Peeta suggested, trying to lift everyone's spirits.

"Not the sequel, right? The original?" asked Delly.

"Yeah, the original."

"Okay then! Let's go, back to Peeta's!"

Something stopped them. A low growl ran out, so deep it vibrated through Peeta's bones and forced out a shiver in response. A wild animal of some sort? The woods were famous for their wild animals, one of the reasons why the supernatural stories Delly described had arose in the first place.

Peeta turned around slowly, his heart in his throat, trying not to show fear. The girls mimicked him, not wanting to have their backs to whatever creature was behind them.

A large dog-like creature crouched a metre away, it's green eyes glistening in the darkness. Its teeth were bared, each one sharp as a knife, and drool leaked and snapped out of its mouth. Peeta ushered the girls behind him, feeling a duty as the oldest to look after them. It was his fault they were all out here anyway. If this animal was about to attack, the others should at least have a chance at running.

Rain water dampened his hair and beaded on his eyelashes. The wolf didn't move and Peeta's vision began to blurr. He was frozen with fear, too afraid to even wipe his eyes so he could keep the animal in his eyeline. If he moved to suddenly, it might attack. And if it attacked, he stood no chance of surviving.

"Remember," Katniss whispered, "it's more afraid of you than you are of it."

As if hearing her voice, the creature snarled angrily. Delly whimpered, pressing her face against Peeta's back in fear. As he stared right into the creature's eyes, Peeta wondered if it could hear how fast his heart was beating, see how truly frightened he was.

Then, as if it had been jolted to life, the animal lunged.

_**A/N: Let me know what you think! As previously said, reviews are greatly appreciated! (:**_


	2. Hidden Motives

_**A/N: Thank you everyone for your wonderful feedback! The response to this story is astounding! Thank you so, so much! :D**_

_**Disclaimer: I don't own the Hunger Games.**_

**Chapter Two: Hidden Motives**

Peeta had thought that the first thing he would feel would be blinding pain. Maybe the burn of his skin being ripped from his body, the agony of his flesh being torn away and used as food. But instead something whacked the back of his head. Like a brick or the butt of a gun. Whatever it was, it hurt like a bitch.

The impact knocked his vision off, making everything slide out of focus and tilt on its side. The ground spun beneath him and quickly grew closer. Before he knew it, he was on the ground. He wanted to pick himself back up but he was too weak and his body didn't seem to respond to anything he told it to do.

He lay on the wet ground weakly while his wrists and ankles were bound up. What sort of wolf could tie knots anyway? And then suddenly he was being carried, through the trees and deeper into the woods. Peeta could hear screaming, probably Delly, reasoning, obviously Katniss, and swearing, definitely Madge. On some level, he was glad they were close by, on another he was worried because all three of them were obviously distressed. He wanted to do some struggling and trouble making of his own but whatever had hit the back of his head had knocked the sense clean out of him.

Peeta half felt like he was dreaming. Everything had a nebulous tint to it, like in a dream, and he couldn't piece together the events of the past couple of minutes to get them to make any sort of sense. They were walking . . . Delly was talking about supernatural myths . . . the rain . . . the leaves . . . Mean Girls . . . the wolf . . . now . . . this.

It was still raining. Peeta could feel it splattering his face in random droplets, the wet attack getting weaker and weaker the further into woods he was taken. The journey began to blurr into nothing, just a long streak of aimless greens and browns, with a small smidge of grey when the leaves parted to reveal a tiny piece of sky. When he finally gathered enough strength to struggle, whoever was holding him took an aburpt turn so his head whacked against the trunk of a tree.

Everything jerked off kilter again but not enough to knock the sense out of Peeta again. He was able to keep consciousness and his eyes were able to quickly adjust again. His senses slowly straightened out and he was able to recognize what position he was in. Obviously he was being carried through the forest but whoever it was that had taken him was carrying him over their shoulder. So whatever Peeta was looking at now, he decided, was what was currently behind his assailant.

They had travelled so far Peeta couldn't even see the road anymore. The woods between and around the districts were huge, they could walk for days and barely make a dent in it. After what felt like forever, Peeta could start to hear sounds. The low hum of chatter. Sparks of bright light sparked in the corners of his eyes and, all of a sudden, his attacker let go.

"Peeta!" Katniss exclaimed as he hit the ground hard. The impact forced every whisp of air out of his lungs. Peeta choked, coughing to regain his breath. He stared at the sky, which was pitch black and covered with leaves. He could see the stars, glowing like yellow flares in the darkness. So far and out of reach.

Three concerned faces appeared, all of them staring at him with concerned expressions.

"Oh my god, are you alright?" Delly squeaked.

"I think so," Peeta groaned. He pushed himself up, having to use every ounce of strength due to his bound hands and ankles. His friends were in the same position as him, tied up with rope. "What happened? Where did the wolf go?"

"I think . . ." Madge trailed off, her throat bobbing as she swallowed hard, "I think whoever grabbed you was the wolf . . ."

"No, I was grabbed by a person," Peeta said. "Like you guys. We must have been jumped or something." He took in his surroundings. They were sitting in a circle of soil, lit up by tiki lamps of some sort. Peeta realized with a jolt that there were people. Hundreds of them, standing around, watching them. "The wolf must have ran when we were attacked."

Katniss shook her head. She was always the most reasonable in the group and yet even she was taking the side that was less logical. "I saw it," she whispered. "The wolf . . . it changed. Into a _human._"

"I told you there were werewolves in the forest," Delly said. She stared at the dirt, her eyes saddened. The statement wasn't snide, she was just stating a fact.

"This is ridiculous," Madge hissed. "Surely we didn't see what we think we saw . . . There has to be a sensible explaination for it. Maybe this people . . . maybe they're tribesmen or something."

"Don't be stupid, when has there ever been tribes in Panem?" Delly snapped. She groaned and threw her head into her hands. "We're going to die." Peeta felt the urge to disagree with her but he couldn't. How they could get out of this perdicament he had no clue so why give false hope?

But he wasn't scared. For some reason, there was a familiar tint to the environment in which they had been placed. It was like deja vu. Everything looked so similiar to something Peeta had experienced before but when he reached out and tried to grab the memory, his fingers slipped through it, like trying to grab water.

A man stepped out of the shadows and into the large circle of dirt. The people surrounding them obviously respected him greatly because they all got down onto one knee when the light from the lamps shone on his face. Delly, for some bizarre reason, pressed her forehead against the ground in what looked like an act of reverence. Katniss hunched her shoulders, trying to seem small, while Madge stayed defiant, somehow finding the courage to state the man down with narrowed eyes.

Peeta wasn't sure what he was supposed to do. When he laid eyes on the man, there was a stirring in the back of his mind. A tickle, if you will. Something that told him that he had seent him before. He tried to focus, to remember when, but it was there and gone in a second. There was something initmate about the guy's stance, his blond hair, the green eyes, the way he stared at them with an angry gaze . . . it was all so familiar. But Peeta didn't know where from.

"They stepped into our woods," a voice suddenly said from somewhere behind them. Katniss jumped in surprise and Madge cursed, her hand going to her chest in shock. Another man walked around them, stopping a little away from the blond man. "They trespassed."

"Did anyone see you take them?" The blond man's voice was deep, masculine. A shiver jittered down Peeta's spine. Again, familiarity. Where was all this coming from?

"No," the other man replied. "Which one do you wish to take care of first?"

Somehow Peeta knew that 'take care of' didn't mean give a warm bed for the night and a hot shower. Still, he wasn't scared. Why was that? His heart was pounding, pumping blood and adrenalin around his body, but there was no fear. Like he somehow knew that he wasn't going to be hurt. Maybe he was kidding himself, telling himself that they weren't going to harm him. That this was all just a dream and he was going to wake up on the roadside any second after having hit his head.

"The blond one."

Peeta and Madge exchanged a worried look. Which one did he mean? Delly used to be blonde but chose to dye her hair dark brown earlier in the year. Bet she wasn't regretting that decision anymore.

"Which one, Cato?"

Oh, so the blond guy's name was Cato. The name caused a stir in Peeta's gut. He suddenly felt ill, nasuea flooding his system. Why did that name have such an affect on him?

Cato rolled his eyes and looked at his assistant. "The pretty one," he said. His voice was mocking, the statement not sounding like a compliment in the slightest. Peeta felt the urge to gather Madge into his arms like a pappa bear. Why did they want to kill her first? Was it because of her contempt?

Peeta was about to protest when the assistant stepped forward and grabbed _him_.

"Let go of him!" Madge roared. Her screaming seemed useless, since she couldn't do anything to back up any threats she may say, because of her bound limbs. But she continued to shout and scream none-the-less.

"Don't hurt him!" Katniss shouted as well.

"What's he ever done to you?!" Delly screamed helplessly.

The assistant pushed Peeta at Cato, who caught him easily. Thank god too, since his ankles were bound. Peeta didn't know a lot about first impressions, but he certainly didn't want to look like a fool by face planting the dirt in front of what seemed to be the leader of this . . . whoever these people were . . .

Making easy work of the ropes that were cutting into Peeta's ankles, Cato freed him from one half of his bindings. A voice at the back of Peeta's head told him he could escape, lash out now while he had the chance, but when Cato looked him in the eyes, he froze. He was overwhelmed with warmth. His heart skipped a beat, like it might do when he laid eyes on a crush or lover.

Cato's green eyes changed. Peeta was sure he was seeing things but when he blinked, it was still the same. The pupil had narrowed into a thin slit and, when he opened his mouth, his teeth had sharped into pointed canines. Oh god, was he going to _bite_ him? Peeta finally realized what was happening and struggled in Cato's hold on him. It was futile, he barely made the weird-wolf-hybrid-human break a sweat.

"Settle down, sweetheart," Cato teased, "it will only hurt for a second."

Before Peeta could come up with a snide response, a hand grabbed his hair and roughly pulled his head back. The term 'life flashing before your eyes' is a lie. Because all Peeta saw was the terrified faces of his friends staring in horror.

Something horrible must have been about to happen because they started screaming again.

"Don't you fucking dare!" Madge screeched.

At the exact same time Katniss was yelling, "I swear to God you fucker if you harm him I will rip out of these bindings and rip your fucking head off!" It was odd, because Katniss was usually so rational and collected.

Delly was sobbing, looking completely helpless.

"Nice friends you've got there," Cato purred into Peeta's ear. "Too bad in less than five minutes their blood is going to be splattered on the forest floor."

Peeta found his voice, fuelled with animosity for the bastard about to kill him. "Fuck you."

Cato didn't respond. For a moment, Peeta was truimphant, thinking he had finally gotten the smug asshole to shut up, but he realized that something was wrong. "What the . . ." Cato didn't finish his sentence. Peeta felt fingers on his skin, digging into different sides of his neck.

Suddenly he was on the ground again, having smacked the earth hard. Cato had dropped him like a hot potato. Pain branched out across his back and his brain felt like it was going to burst out of his skull. What happened? Had he been bitten? No, if he had been bitten the pain would be in his neck, not his back.

Madge wormed over to him, a glare burned into her features. "Did he hurt you?" she asked.

"No, but my taibone may be fractured," Peeta replied. He flipped onto his front and used his elbows to push himself up. "What happened?"

"He just dropped you." Madge looked up at Cato with an annoyed expression. The assistant reappeard beside his leader, looking confused.

"Is something wrong?" he asked.

Cato shook his head. "Look for yourself." Peeta yelped as the assistant grabbed the front of his shirt and dragged him back to his feet as if he weighed nothing.

"Oi! Watch it!" shouted Katniss.

The assistant must have known what he was looking for because he grabbed Peeta's neck and roughly jerked it from side to side, his eyes quickly scanning the skin. Almost as quickly as he had grabbed him, the assistant dropped him again. Peeta groaned into the earth. How many more times was he going to be thrown around like a rag doll?

"What do we do, sir?" asked the assistant.

Cato shrugged, as if dealing with a trivial issue. "Just . . .we need to talk to the Undead about this before we make any decisions." His eyes fell on his four captives. The green orbs lingered particularly on Peeta and he swallowed nervously, wondering what it was that he had done. "It will take at least a day to contact them."

His assistant nodded. "I'll send a messenger immediately."

"These mortals are not to leave the camp," Cato said, addressing the onlookers. "Do not harm any of them but if they try to escape, bring them back immediately."

Okay, so they weren't going to die. But why? Of course Peeta was grateful but he couldn't help feeling suspicious. Why were they being spared? He had literally been inches from death and now all of a sudden he wasn't? What had changed?

When Cato disappeared, his assistant untied their hands. As he untied Delly, he explained, "It is not wise to rebel. You don't stand a chance." He stated this so simply, no one questioned it.

Katniss frowned. "What's your name?"

"Gale." He did not say anything else. They watched him leave, all of four of them completely stupified. Most of the onlookers disappeared too, two or three sticking around to keep an eye on them.

"Who are these people?" Peeta whispered, scared their guards may hear him and tell him to be quiet.

Delly's voice, when she answered, was quiet. "I think we need to stop denying what is right in front of us," she said.

"Oh and what's that?" Madge demanded.

"You know what I'm talking about, don't make me say it," Delly muttered.

"No, go on, Cartwright. Wow us with your mighty wisdom!" hissed Madge. Peeta could understand her irritance, they were all pretty worked up, but once they started taking out on one another was when everything was going to fall apart. They had to stick together because if they didn't then these . . . _people_ would hold an advantage over them.

"It obvious the stories are true!" Delly snapped. "Did you see that Cato guy's teeth? They were like a dog's! And he said the Undead. That's obviously their vampire accomplices. Why else would he say Undead?"

"Maybe they're goths," Katniss suggested helplessly.

Delly shook her head. "Denial isn't going to do us any good."

Peeta stared at the ground. "I don't even understand how we're alive." His friends look at him as if he were mad. "What? Don't you find it odd? I was seconds away from death and then all of a sudden that asshole Cato goes cold and starts talking about Undead and keeping us here in these damn woods."

"He was so close . . . Until he looked at your neck," said Madge. She suddenly lurched forward, her hand going to the back of Peeta's neck to grab his hair.

"Madge what are you-OW!" Madge yanked his head back, just like Cato had done before so she could look at his neck.

"I don't-I can't see anything."

"Madge, you're making me nervous."

"Wait, what's that?" Katniss leaned forward, smoothing her hand along Peeta's neck and squinting. "It's small, you'd really need a magnifying glass to see it properly." Delly also joined in the scrutinizing of his neck. "This isn't working, I can't see it."

Madge rolled her eyes and dragged Peeta down to the ground. He yelped, unable to handle all the eyes on him at once. The guards stepped forward, concerned, but Madge snapped, "Cool the beans, pups, we're not hurting him."

"Well, that's debateable," Peeta said. "Madge, let go!"

"Hold on a minute."

Katniss probed two different spots of his neck. The two spots that Cato had dug his fingers into. "It's like pinpricks," she explained. "They're tiny. Miniscule. Peeta, have you been self medicating or something?"

"What, in my juglar?" he asked sarcastically. "Where can you even get drugs in 12 anyway? This isn't like District 7, there aren't dealers around every corner!"

"Then what is that?!"

"Okay ladies, back off!" Peeta said, giving his friends a gentle push so he could sit up again. "Peeta needs to breathe." He put his hand on his neck self consciously. Katniss looked worried, and Madge and Delly didn't look any better. "Why, what is it? Is it something bad? What does it look like?"

Katniss took a moment to answer. She glanced at Madge and Delly, who obviously hadn't seen what she had. "It looks like . . ." She met Peeta's eyes, her iris' looking like smoke in the pale light provided by the tiki lamps. "It looks like a bite. Two bites. On either side of your neck."

_**A/N: Thanks again for your kind words! Please R&R with your thoughts on this chapter! (:**_


	3. Answers, Sort of

_**A/N: I'm kind of on a roll with this one. Thank you to everyone for your lovely feedback (:**_

_**Disclaimer: I don't own the Hunger Games.**_

**Chapter Three: Answers . . . Sort of**

The wolves-Peeta started calling them that because, despite Madge's adamant protests, he knew he had to stop denying what he saw-took them to a small cabin not far from the dirt circle in which they had been dumped. Any thoughts of escape fell upon deaf ears as two guards stayed stationed outside the door while one stayed at the one window outside the cabin.

"We're dreaming. We have to be." Delly was losing her mind. She paced uncontrollably, unable to keep still, constantly pinching her arm and smacking herself. Peeta was surprised she hadn't knocked herself out yet, she was beating herself that hard.

"Look at the marks on your arm, genius," said Katniss. "If you were dreaming, we would have woken up by now."

"I don't understand!" Delly exclaimed. She threw herself onto her bed, wincing when it became apparent that they weren't given the softest of mattresses. "All those stories about the werewolves and the vampires . . . they were _stories_! They shouldn't be real. They're just myths my mother told me when I was little to get me to go to sleep."

"Your mother got you to go to sleep by telling you about supernatural beings that crave human flesh that live in the forests outside your house?" Madge asked the ceiling. Despite the bed's uncomfortable attributes, Madge lay on her back, staring mindlessly at the roof of the cabin. "What sort of parenting books did she read?"

"I like those stories," Delly muttered.

"It would have been nice for her to mention that they were based on true stories," Katniss said. She sat below the window, picking at the grass that slipped through the panels of the floorboards. She glanced over her shoulder, up at the window that the guard still stood by, waiting in case one of them tried to make a run for it. "I don't understand, what are they going to do to us? What do they want?"

Peeta was conflicted. While everyone else was scared, he was strangely calm. The whole familiarity of the situation unnerved him. He couldn't understand why he wasn't worried about anything. He hadn't even been afriad when he had been in Cato's hold, the fear only arrived when he realized he was about to be bitten. Yet he was almost completely sure that he had never seen Cato before in his entire life. Well, sort of sure, not one hundred percentage. Well, kind of fifty fifty.

"Can you ever remember being bitten by anything, Peeta?" Katniss asked.

"I couldn't see anything, I still don't believe he was even bitten," Madge muttered.

"I know what I saw!" shouted Katniss.

Delly shook her head. "I didn't see anything, either."

"I told you, the bites were tiny," Katniss insisted. "You two obviously weren't looking hard enough." She picked at her shoes thoughtfully.

Peeta touched his neck, where these supposed bites were. "They don't hurt," he said. "In fact, a bite so tiny probably can't be felt. But I've never been bitten here anyway, not by anything."

Madge snorted. "What did you expect anyway, Katniss? For him to say, 'Aye, yeah, Kat. Just last week I went into the woods and let the vampires snack on me for a bit'. Have some perspective here. These 'bites' obviously appeared without him noticing and it obviously has some siginificence to these wolves or whatever the hell they are."

Katniss looked at Delly. "Did the stories your mother told you say anything about this?" she asked. "Anything at all?"

Delly shrugged. She wrapped her arms around her knees and pressed her chin to her knees. "You said two sets of bites, right?" Katniss nodded. "Well, were any of you listening to me earlier? I said that someday a child will be taken and bitten by both the vampires and the werewolves and that child will grow up to be the leader of both clans, forever to rule."

All three of them looked at Peeta.

Peeta, despite the situation, laughed. "You can't be serious. I think I'd remember if I was stolen at birth and bitten by mythical creatures," he said. He nervously picked at a wound Cato had given him, peeling some of the skin off and flicking it to the floor.

"They take you a week after birth," said Delly. "If you can remember things from when you were that young then I am pretty damn impressed."

Everything, to the girls, seemed to be sliding together but to Peeta it was all falling apart. "I'm not some future leader of creatures deep in the woods," he said. "You guys should know that, we've known each other all our lives. I'm not leadership material, I can't even lead debates in school."

Katniss stood up and smacked his hand away from the cut on his arm. "Stop, you're making yourself bleed."

Peeta looked at the wound with a frown. "And?" he asked. "It's easily solved." He wiped the blood away with the back of his hand and licked it off.

Katniss pulled a face. "I hate it when you do that."

"What? It's not like it's posionous. It's literally what's keeping us alive."

Delly was staring, her eyes wide with realization. Peeta could imagine a cartoon light bulb appearing above her head, she looked that animated. "That is what's happening," she said.

"What's is what's happening?" asked Madge. She sat up, propping herself up on her elbows. Interest was etched across her face, annoyed sarcastic front gone.

"The stories say the double bitten child will be . . . like a prodegy of the wolves and vamps," Delly explained. "They'd express signs of having been bitten."

"Such as?" asked Peeta. Even though this whole idea was absurd, he was interested in where she was planning on going with this.

Delly didn't get a chance to elaborate as when she opened her mouth to respond, the door to the cabin opened. They weren't doing anything wrong but all four of them froze like college students caught smoking a joint in the corridors. The guards parted and Cato came in. Thankfully he didn't look as imposing or pissed off as he had earlier. Maybe he had taken a nap or something and his mood was better.

"Are you here to throw me around again? If so, I'd like to know so that I can prepare myself," asked Peeta. He wasn't sure where the attitude was coming from but he was so comfortable around this man the words just came out. His friends looked at him as if he were crazy.

Cato seemed amused with his attitude. "I need to speak with the pretty one."

Four sets of eyes fell on Peeta. "I have a name," he said.

"Yeah, but you haven't said it yet. So I will continue to call you the pretty one until a point where you realize it won't stop until you say your name," Cato answered. Peeta scowled but this only made the man smirk. "So, your name is?"

"Peeta," he ground out between gritted teeth. Deciding to get everyone's names out of the way, he pointed at his friends, "And that's Katniss, Delly and Madge, since you didn't ask about them."

"Are you going to tell us what's going on, asshole?" Madge said, her voice full of acid.

"When you lose the bad girl attitude, maybe," Cato replied, barely looking at her as he spoke. He directed his eyes back to Peeta, the gaze making the younger boy's blood heat up. "I need to talk to you."

"You do?" asked Peeta, surprised. What could Cato possibly need to say to him? He stood up. "Are you going to explain all of this?"

"It may be involved in the conversation," answered Cato.

Peeta looked at his friends for help. He didn't want to leave them behind. Delly jerked her head, a clear message of, _Go!_ He supposed he wasn't leaving them behind forever, and the possibility of getting answers was so inticing he couldn't refuse it. He clamoured to his feet, feeling a little unsure about being alone with this man, who obviously suffered some form of mood swing.

As soon as he was close enough, Cato took ahold of his arm and lead him out. Just to be difficult, Madge shouted after them, "Hurt him and I will not be held responsible for my actions!"

Cato took off to the right, guiding Peeta deep into the forest. Peeta got an unsettling feeling that he was going to kill him. But why? He had been spared from being bitten earlier for a reason, Cato wasn't going to take him off to kill him again just because a few hours had passed.

Right?

When the silence was too much to bear, Peeta asked, "So, are we going to get to the explanation or . . . ?"

Cato stopped. There wasn't anything particularly different about where they were standing it. It was just more trees and nature debris and . . . dirt. He released Peeta's arm, which he hadn't been holding that hard anyway. Peeta wrapped his fingers around his arm and raised his eyebrows expectantly.

"I want to see how much you remember," said Cato.

"Remember? Remember what?" asked Peeta.

"You obviously don't recognize me or any one else," Cato continued. He rubbed his jaw thoughtfully, trying to come up with a decent way to put it. " Is any of this familiar, even vaguely?"

Peeta folded his arms. "Can't you answer my questions first?" he asked. "I mean, I think I've done enough to earn some answers."

Cato pursed his lips in deep thought. He obviously believed that his questions were more important than whatever Peeta wanted to know but he nodded anyway. "Fine, what do you want to know?"

"Uh, I don't know, what the hell's going on?" Peeta demanded. "Why did you spare us? You were seconds away from murdering me and yet here I am, still alive. And now Katniss is talking about seeing bites and Delly's scaring the crap out of me talking about old stories and myths."

Cato's eyebrows etched together. "What do you mean old stories and myths?"

"She's saying that babies bitten by both creatures or whatever are to become leaders of both groups or something," Peeta said, finding it difficult to recollect. It was already slipping away from him. "Are those stories true? Is she right?" He prayed that she wasn't. Delly was never right. She was always wrong. _Please let this be one of those times._

"Sort of," Cato answered. He sounded a little bit impressed by Delly's knowledge.

Peeta's heart sank. "W-What? Seriously?" he asked. "No . . . that's not right . . . It can't be."

"Some details are wrong," said Cato. He quirked an eyebrow. "How much do you remember?"

"Of what?" Peeta asked helplessly. "I don't understand what I'm supposed to remember."

Cato sighed and rubbed his eyes. "I hate doing this. It's so difficult every time," he muttered. He fixed Peeta with a serious gaze. "There's a lot of explaining to do. All of it can't be done at once but if let me explain camly then it can be done a lot quicker than-"

"Explain what?" Peeta interuppted. Cato sighed heavily. "Oh, you mean if I keep quiet then this can be explained a lot more . . . Okay, I see."

Cato surprised Peeta by laughing. His eyes, once annoyed, had a joyous gleam to them. Peeta expected them to turn feral any second, just as they had when he was about to kill him. "I can't believe I couldn't tell it was you," he said.

Peeta blinked. "You know me?" he asked.

"You could say that," Cato replied. He started walking again but didn't grab Peeta, which made him assume that he was expected to follow. "These forests, all of them, are shared between my pack, the Wolfs, and the Undead Clan. I think you mortals call us Vampires and Werewolves. We've lived in alliance for hundreds of years and will live in alliance for hundreds more."

"So you get along?" asked Peeta. He struggled to keep up with Cato, who walked in long strides.

"Yeah, we do," Cato answered. He looked over his shoulder and smiled. The gesture was strangely sweet and Peeta felt his cheeks heat up for a reason he couldn't explain. "We've been in alliance before your people had invented the wheel. We have our conflicts, like any people would, but we don't hate each other."

Peeta stepped over a large log, trying to ignore the fact that he had to scramble over it while Cato stepped over it as if it were nothing. "But what has your groups got to do with me and my friends?"

Cato stopped, so aburptly that Peeta walked right into his back. The older boy was so strong that Peeta felt like he had walked into a brick wall. He stumbled back a little and grabbed onto the log for balance. Cato chuckled at his clumsiness. "It has a lot to do with you and your friends," he said.

"But how?"

"Our groups need a leader. If we don't, we're uncontrollable. But the only way we are satisifed is if the leader is one of our own. We tried democracy and voting but it just didn't work out because of people being bias or inadequate people being voted into positions of power. So that's when our system of choosing human babies came around. Your friend explained to you our human baby system, right?"

Peeta nodded. "She did."

"And the fact that eventually a baby would be bitten by both a wolf and a vampire and they would become the leader of both for the rest of life on this earth?" asked Cato.

"Yeah."

"We do bite that mortal baby but its the same mortal baby. Are you following?" asked Cato.

Peeta frowned. "Huh?"

A breeze brushed by, unsettling Cato's hair so it fell into his eyes. "Don't ask us how or why because we don't know, but the leader of both our groups was chosen thousands of years ago. When we take the child when he comes of age, he only lasts ten maybe fifteen years before he is killed. Then we have to wait until the moon alines with the stars so we can find the child again."

"Like reincarnation?" Peeta didn't believe in that sort of thing but it sounded like the only reasonable explaination.

Cato nodded. "If you like."

"How do you know which child is your leader after he dies?"

Cato shrugged. "When the moon and stars aline then we know the baby has been born again but trying to find the child, I'll admit, is much more challenging. We mostly just go to the hospital and search the baby ward until we find the right one. They're identified by a birthmark on the right ankle."

Peeta thought about the mark that he had on his own ankle. It could hardly be called a birthmark, though. "Why does the child die when they become the leader?"

"There are people out there, people who would kill to have a hybrid of a werewolf and a vampire. Within three years of being put in power, our leader is killed," Cato explained. "It's hard to explain. I find it harder and harder each time."

"How many times have you explained it?"

Cato looked up, his lips moving silently as he counted something in his head. "This would be my forty seventh time."

Peeta's eyes widened. "Forty seventh? How old are you?"

"You stop keeping track after a while."

"But you look . . ."

"I know, it's complicated. Let's not get into it now," said Cato.

This was a lot to absorb. Peeta was filled with so many questions, he didn't even know where to begin. "You weren't kidding when you said that that some details were missing from the story," he finally said. "But . . . what do you do in the inbetween time while waiting for the . . . for the leader to be old enough to lead again?"

"That's when I'm in charge. I don't know what the Undead do, though," Cato explained. "Probably the same thing, I guess."

Peeta stared. "When's your leader coming again? When did the moon and stars aline?"

The sun was beginning to rise, the sky streaked with oranges and soft purples. The light reflected in Cato's eyes, making the emerald green shine. "The 28th of November eighteen years ago."

"Weird, that's my . . ." Peeta trailed off, as he realized what the look Cato was giving him meant. "Oh no, no, no, no, I am _not_ what you're looking for. I can't be. I'm not some incarnation of someone who was killed. And I think I'd know if I was or not."

"Well, you're not supposed to remember," answered Cato. He looked at the ground and shook his head. "I hate it when you don't recognize any of this. I hate it when you don't recognize _me_."

Peeta scratched his head. "Should I?" he asked.

Cato shook his head. "Doesn't matter right now."

"You didn't recognize me," Peeta pointed out.

"I know, it doesn't matter. Seriously." Suddenly closed off, Cato turned around and started walking away. "I got everything I need to know. Go back to your friends and tell them what you know." Peeta stood, the backs of his legs pressing against the large log, and watched Cato disappear into the trees.

He felt like he had gotten loads of answers just no answers at the same time.

~xXx~

_"I don't know if I can do this."_

_"Yes you can." Warm arms enclosed his small body, guiding his hands to the wall in front of him. Lips tickled his ear and he closed his eyes, a shudder running through his body. "Just concentrate."_

_"Cato, I can't."_

_Peeta felt Cato's strong body press against his back, lips trailing up the back of his neck to his ear. "Just focus. Let yourself relax, let yourself go. Feel yourself become what you are." Peeta forced himself relax, let his muscles uncoil and go loose. He melted into Cato, his fingers curling into his hands but still pressing them harder against the wall._

_"Think about me," Cato continued to whisper. "And the pack, anything that makes you relax and unravel."_

_Peeta felt it working. A shiver ran along his body, wakening certain nerve-endings and making his blood heat up. Cato whispered praise, pulling Peeta tighter against him and stroking his hip with his thumb. The embrace comforted Peeta and quickened the process along._

_"Brilliant," Cato murmured. He pressed his forehead against his temple and smiled. "You look beautiful." A gentle kiss against his cheek. "Open your eyes. Have a look."_

_Peeta opened his eyes and saw himself in the mirror. His hair was jet black and his skin was incredibly pale. Well, paler than normal. But his eyes were what made his blood run cold. What made him recoil in disgust. His pupils were black slits, the blue practically glowing in his sockets._

_"What am I?" he whispered._

_Cato nuzzled his face into Peeta's neck, a content smile on his face. "You're our leader."_

Peeta woke up with a scream, scaring the girls and causing them to scream as well.

Katniss screamed, "Oh my god!"

"What is it?!" Delly screeched, grappling at her covers as if expecting a monster to jump out of no where.

"I'll get it!" Madge shouted, jumping to her feet on the bed, weilding one of Delly's high heel shoes.

"Stop, it's nothing!" Peeta yelled over them. Katniss was the first to react. She grabbed the shoe off Madge and fired it at him. He quickly ducked to avoid getting nailed in the head.

"You scared the fuck out of us!" Delly exclaimed.

"Sorry," Peeta said, looking around to take in his surroundings. "I just . . . I just had a weird dream." His heart was pounding in his chest. He couldn't get the image of those eyes out of his head. The feral glint, how relaxed he had felt that way . . . Cato hugging and caressing him . . . But was it even him? His hair was dark and it was definitely natural, because his eyebrows matched. But that didn't make any sense . . .

The girls groaned and threw themselves back into their beds, throwing their blankets over their heads and falling asleep. It was strange that even though they were scared out of their wits, they could still sleep.

Peeta looked out the window. It was now completely bright outside but still quite early. He had to get some more sleep if he stood a chance of surviving the rest of the day.

When he lay down and closed his eyes, slitted blue eyes burned behind his eyelids and the feeling of Cato's hands on his body caressed his skin long after the dream began fade.

_**A/N: Please R&R with your thoughts! :D**_


	4. Disquieted Remembrance

_**A/N: Guys, you have no idea how excited I am about this story. I'm so glad you all are enjoying reading it too! (:**_

_**Disclaimer: I don't own the Hunger Games. **_

**Chapter Four: Disquieted Remembrance**

The werewolves in Cato's back were . . . intimate, to say the least. It was like sexuality was a free-for-all and it didn't matter who you were touching or groping, as long as you were touching and groping something. Not everyone acted like this, however, but the many that were did it openly, not caring who saw them. Peeta supposed their freedom was admirable but he couldn't imagine ever doing anything like that.

Sort of.

There was something commonplace about everything that went on in the pack's daily routine. Peeta didn't feel extreme familiarity with what they got up but he definitely felt like he had experienced something similar. It was, like everything else, far away and out of reach.

Peeta didn't like sitting around, waiting on more news. Everyone looked at him strange, some with accusing eyes and others with craving gazes. Katniss fit in easier than anyone else. She spoke to that guy Gale from yesterday as if they had known each other their entire lives. But then Katniss was like that. She could talk to anyone and immediately befriend them. And she did seem interested in Gale from what Peeta could see yesterday.

Delly and Madge somehow managed to make friends as well. Madge was flirting with one of the guards and Delly was chatting up a guy a few metres from where Peeta himself sat. He felt like an oddity. Why couldn't he fit in as well as everyone else? Just yesterday they had all been screaming at these people and yet now the girls were fitting in as if they hadn't been kidnapped and held hostage at all.

"You look bored."

Peeta lifted his eyes from the grass and found himself looking at Cato. The sight of him caused his stomach to knot anxiously. "I am," he said.

"Your friends seem to be fitting in with the pack just fine," Cato replied.

Peeta shrugged. "They've always been better than me at that sort of thing."

Cato smiled. The action-so simple-was actually the most familiar thing Peeta had encountered yet. He was positive he had seen it before. He could see it, clearly, in his mind, he just didn't know where from. "Well, you're needed so if you're okay with leaving your friends again. It shouldn't be for too long."

Peeta looked around at the girls, who were all comfortably absorbed in their conversations. They would be perfectly fine without him. "Okay. What do you need me for?" he asked.

Cato held out his hand and Peeta took it, overwhelmed with the man's strength as he pulled him to his feet with ease. He stared at their joined hands, not sure how to proceed. "Follow me," Cato said. He let go of Peeta's hand, almost reluctantly, and made his way towards one of the cabins.

Peeta followed, scrambling over the forest debris, trying not to fall. He finding it easier to keep up with Cato, it was just the random twigs and leaves lying around that were threatening to trip him up that were causing him to worry. The cabins were all similar to each other. All made out logs and wood, built from materials only found in the woods. Maybe that explained why the beds were so uncomfortable.

The cabin Cato entered was larger than the others. There were only three beds. One at the top and one at opposite walls. A man stood in the middle, a pair of sunglasses covering his eyes. He was grinning, obviously pleased with something. Peeta felt the urge to hide behind Cato, which was ludicris because he had just met Cato yesterday and wasn't all too trusting of him yet.

"Peeta, this is Marvel, current leader of the Undead," Cato explained, gesturing at the man.

"Don't vampires burst into flames during the day?" Peeta asked, trying to keep his voice quiet so that the man didn't hear him.

"The wolves are extremely accommodating. They make sure our needs are met when they send for us," Marvel said. He lowered his glasses and looked over them at Peeta, who was greatly alarmed that the man had heard him. "I can't believe you couldn't tell, Cato, this is obviously him."

"I didn't know to look out for him!" Cato replied. "He's never actually came to us before, we've always had to go and get him ourselves. And I thought we still didn't have to do that until a few months, at least. I keep saying time and time again it's about time we figured out a way of time keeping."

"He suits the blond hair," Marvel smirked, his eyes roaming lazily over Peeta's body. "Never had that before."

"I'm sorry but I have no idea what's going on," said Peeta, trying to ignore the discomfort of being on the receiving end of Marvel's lustful gaze. What did he mean by him suiting the blond hair? He had always had blond hair. Peeta remembered his dream, where his hair was dark as night, jet black and definitely not his normal blond. He quicky pushed it away again.

"There's only one way to know for sure," said Marvel, ignoring Peeta.

Cato turned to Peeta. "Peeta, do you have a birthmark? Like the one I described yesterday?"

Peeta tried to remember the birthmark Cato had mentioned. "The ankle one? Yeah, I have a mark on my left ankle but I wouldn't say it was a birthmark, more like something I've just always had."

"Can we see it?" Cato asked.

Peeta frowned and stepped away. He wasn't sure why the question was so unnerving but it made him uncomfortable. "Why? It wouldn't match your description. It's on my left ankle, not my right like you said." As soon as he said this, he was flooded with relief. "So I'm not your leader! I'm not what you're looking for!"

Marvel shrugged. "You weren't supposed to be blond either but things seem to be changing."

"But what do you mean not supposed to be? Both my parents were blond so of course I was born blond!" Peeta protested.

Marvel rolled his eyes and shook his head. "We go through this every time," he muttered. He pushed his glasses back up his nose and looked at Cato tiredly. "Why does he have to be so difficult every time?"

"Don't ask me," Cato answered.

"Why shouldn't I? You are his-"

"Marvel, not now."

Peeta wanted to know what Marvel had been about to say but, judging by how quickly Cato cut him off, whatever it was couldn't be good. He was so focused on this he didn't notice Cato move behind him and completely freaked out when he grabbed hold of him. Marvel lurched forward and grasped his left ankle, lifting it into the air and pulling his shoe off.

"What the hell, let go!" Peeta shouted, trying to kick out at the vampire while simultaneously trying to punch Cato as well.

"Will you calm down, we're not going to hurt you," Marvel muttered. Cato remained silent, his grasp on Peeta a lot more gentle that Marvel's. "Yeah, there it is, the birthmark."

"It's not a birthmark!" Peeta protested.

"Have you ever looked at the shape of the mark?" asked Marvel.

"What? No! It's a mark, why should I?"

Marvel suddenly let go of his ankle and if it were not for Cato's arms around his chest, Peeta would have dropped like a stone. Peeta squirmed out of Cato's hold and grabbed his shoe, pulling it back on quickly and covering his ankle back up again. "It's in the shape of a crescent moon," explained Marvel. "With a line through it. The symbol of our clans."

Peeta's eyes ping-ponged between Cato and Marvel incredulity. "It's a mark, nothing else."

"The right mark." Marvel looked at Cato. "You're very quiet."

Peeta looked at Cato as well, who had been strangely quiet the past few minutes. The older man seemed to be concentrating fierecely on something. He was staring at a point just past Peeta's shoulder and his eyes were narrowed. It was a little worrying. "Why's it different . . . Why now?" he finally said.

"Maybe it's a fluke?" Marvel suggested.

"Millions of years and there has never been a fluke," said Cato. He snapped out of his trance and met Marvel's eyes. "So I'm trying to figure out what's different and why it's happening now. I'm only just adjusting to this stupid routine and now everything's messing up."

Peeta felt completely lost. "I don't understand. What's different? What's been the same for millions of years?"

The wolf and undead looked at him as if just remembering that he was there. Peeta noticed for the first time how tired Cato looked, like he hadn't slept at all the previous night. "Peeta, you're our leader. It's been that way for all these years. Only it's different now, things are different. And we have to figure out why-"

"I already said, I'm not a leader," Peeta insisted. Why couldn't they understand that he wasn't what they were looking for? That he definitely was not leadership material? Couldn't they see that he wasn't a leader? Surely it was obvious. "I'm flattered, I guess, but . . . but I can't do it."

"Are most details still the same, since everything is changing like you claim?" asked Marvel. He stepped closer and sniffed the air, lowering his sunglasses again so they perched at the bottom of his nose. "Name: Peeta, eighteen years old, born and raised in District 12, sexual oreintation: gay, three friends: Katniss, Madge, Delly . . ."

"How do you know all that?" Peeta demanded.

"Your blood reeks of personal details," Marvel explained. Peeta stepped backwards, out of Marvel's smelling range. He didn't want this man he didn't know to be able to smell everything about him. It made him feel vulnerable and exposed.

"Don't do that," Cato said, taking a protective step closer to Peeta that he didn't understand.

"But all those details are the same, why are those few things different?" Marvel asked. "Maybe it's nothing. I think we should proceed as normal."

Peeta leaned back against the wall by the door. "What's proceeding as normal?" he asked. "And if it's me that you want, can't you let my friends go? They haven't done anything. They don't have birthmarks or blonde hair. Well, Madge does but that's not the point. They haven't done anything, please let them go."

"Your friends are involved," Cato answered.

"But how?"

Cato waved him off. "It's a question for another time," he said.

Peeta was going to hold him to that. He looked around the room, at the three beds and the larger scale of the cabin. "Why is this place different to the others?" He approached one of the beds, which were higher than the one he had slept in the previous night, and poked the mattress. It was softer and more spongey. "Why is everything so much more regal? What's so special about here?"

"This is your cabin," answered Cato. "When in power this is where you sleep."

"Why is there three beds then?" asked Peeta.

"One belongs to you," Cato said. He rubbed the back of his neck and gestured at the bed on the right. "That's for any Undead visiting the camp. We like to ensure that they are made comfortable and to keep the healthy bonds between our camps secure we let visitors share the head cabin with you and . . ."

"The owner of the other bed?" Peeta guessed.

"Uh, yeah. Me, actually," Cato answered.

Peeta moved to the bed at the top of the room. To what he guessed was his bed. He sat down on the edge of it and bounced a little. It was definitely a lot more comfy than the one in the other cabin. He stared at Cato seriously. "What are you to me, exactly?" he asked. "You have to be something."

Marvel grinned. "As I was saying, he's your-"

"Marvel, can I talk to you outside, please?" Cato said stiffly. "Bring your umbrella."

The Undead rolled his eyes and grabbed an umbrella that was propped up against the wall. He opened it inside-Peeta guessed that bad luck didn't matter when you could burn to a crisp outside-and stepped outside when Cato held the door open for him.

When the door shut behind them, Peeta propped his foot up on the edge of the bed and pulled his jeans up to have a look at the mark on his ankle. On first glance, it looked like nothing but a splodge of pink but, as he squinted at the mark, he realized that Marvel had been right. It looked like a crescent moon with a line through it. How had he never noticed that before?

Pushing his leg back down, Peeta pushed himself back until he was leaning against the headboard of the bed. Looking out, at the expanse of the room, his heart skipped a beat at how familiar it seemed. He jumped off the bed and pressed himself against the far wall. He felt like his breath had been stolen from him and his chest heaved as he tried to get it back.

There was something . . . about sitting at the bed, overlooking everything . . . He had definitely done it before. Again, like everything else, the feeling was gone as fast as it had came and he was left with an unsettling feeling of incompletion.

The worst of everything was, he couldn't say that he hadn't been bitten when he was a baby and be completely sure. When he was the supposed biting age, he was with his parents. His real parents. But his parents were killed when he was two years old and he had been adopted at the age of seven by his current parents. Peeta never dwelled on his birth parents' death because he wasn't old enough to know or love them personally. But if he had been bitten by something when he was a baby, his parents wouldn't know. And he couldn't walk up to the Merchant Graveyard and ask his birth parents.

When Peeta asked his adoptive parents what happened his birth parents, they told him that no one really knows what happened. They were just found dead. He had been there, too, crying in his cot, but he couldn't remember anything to do with it. Probably because he was only a baby.

Somehow it all felt like it was connected. Peeta just couldn't figure out how.

Later, Marvel returned to his clan to talk to them about the recent events. It was much darker and he could travel on his own without the aid of an umbrella, sunglasses or the wolves. Peeta watched him leave from the steps outside the cabin. The Undead man was there one minute and gone the next. It was almost like Peeta blinked and he was gone. Must be an Undead thing.

Peeta found his eyes following Cato as he moved around the camp. The man was something to do with him, he just wished he could figure out what it was. Cato obviously didn't want him to know, he had made that clear through how he had silenced Marvel when he tried to tell him.

Even when he thought of Cato's name, there was an affectionate warmth in his chest. Like he had known him all his life. But he hadn't, that was the point. He only met Cato yesterday. Yet everytime they met each other's eyes, every time Cato took his hand to guide him around or help him up, every time Peeta thought of that strange dream he had the previous night, there was a friendly warmth.

And Peeta couldn't deny that Cato was attractive. He had known ever since he was a kid that he was gay and had only had one previous relationship. He never normally found himself thinking about things such as phyiscal appearance, it was just something he didn't notice, but there was something about Cato that was aesthetically pleasing.

Familiarly aesthetically pleasing.

The girls were away with their news friends. Peeta was glad that they were making themselves comfortable but he couldn't help worrying about them. They only met these people, they couldn't immediately trust them just because they had one conversation. Not that Peeta didn't believe that they couldn't look after themselves. All three of them could look after themselves, able to beat any guy up with the force of ten men between them.

It made Peeta feel like an abnormality, since he hadn't been able to melt into the pack life like everyone else. But why should he? He had been kidnapped and thrown around and given startling information and expected to take it as if it were all okay.

"Peeta!"

Peeta looked up, an unexplainable smile growing on his face when he saw Cato approaching him.

_"Peeta!"_

_He looked up, his mouth curling into a fond smile as he saw Cato coming towards him. The sun streamed through the trees, threading through the tiny holes in the leaves and reflecting off Cato's golden hair. It set his green eyes alight, glittering like gorgeous emeralds, shined to the point of perfection. He was wearing a white shirt, a couple of the buttons undone at the top to expose a generous portion of his tanned chest. A black silk waist coat hung open, presenting a silver fob watch hanging from the interior pocket._

_"Hi," Peeta said, his voice timid and embarrassed. He couldn't control how shy he was when-ever Cato was around. He stood up to greet him, a blush blooming across his cheeks when the older man wrapped a possessive arm around his waist and pulled him close, pressing a sweet kiss against his lips._

_"How are you adjusting?" Cato asked, stroking the line of Peeta's spine with the tips of his fingers._

_"I feel a little left out," Peeta admitted, a shiver washing over him like a wave at the gentle stroking of the fingers on his back._

_"It's okay. You'll adjust and fit in soon, I promise." Cato leaned forward and captured his lips again, smoothing his hands up his back and pulling him closer. Peeta sighed in satisfaction, letting his own hands crawl up Cato's chest and rest on his shoulders._

_Cato let his face fall into the crook of Peeta's neck, where he lightly grazed his canines along his collarbone. Peeta exhaled shakily, a appeased smile falling over his face. "I hope so," he whispered._

The flashback caused Peeta to jump to his feet in alarm. Cato stopped at the bottom step, probably wondering what he had done. "Are you alright?" he asked.

Peeta stared at him with wide, shocked eyes. The flashback bewildered him and he was left so disoreintated and he just stared for a long moment. He tried to piece it together before it began to fade. The thing that struck him as the most bizarre was what Cato had been wearing. It was vintage but from when Peeta didn't know.

"Yeah, I'm fine," Peeta finally said. He shoved the image into the back of his mind for later pondering. "Can I help you with something?"

"I'd like to do the test with you now," said Cato.

Peeta brushed a stray hair out of his eyes and slipped his hands into his pockets. "What test?" A flare of panic bloomed in his chest, thinking that there were things he was supposed to know and was about to be tested on.

"I want to test the signs," answered Cato. When he took in Peeta's blank expression, he clarified. "I want to test the signs of the werewolf and vampire within you."

Peeta shook his head. "You won't find anything, then," he said.

Cato smirked. The cockiness in the gesture made Peeta flush in disconcertion and, admittedly, attraction. "I think I'll be the judge of that."

_**A/N: Hope you liked it! Please R&R with your thoughts! I love your feedback, you're all so amazing! (:**_


	5. Wolf or Undead

_**A/N: Hello guys! I'm so happy you're all enjoying this story. I know some of you are confused but that's what I'm going for so don't worry :)**_

_**The idea for the reincarnation comes from a story 'Fallen' by Lauren Kate, as a reviewer rightfully pointed out. I wouldn't recommend that story myself as the protagonist was a bit of a mary sue and the other characters were kind of frustrating. The idea was good though, I guess.**_

_**Disclaimer: I don't own the Hunger Games.**_

**Chapter Five: Wolf or Undead**

Cato did the test in a secluded part of the forest. Peeta worried that it was going to be mentally or physically challenging. What if he couldn't complete it properly? What if whatever he did or said wasn't right? He had never been good under pressure and had only been able to relax about tests after hours cramming for it. But, even though something told him that there was nothing to do with cramming or studying, he hated the idea of seeming like an idiot to Cato.

Cato gestured at a fallen tree trunk. "Sit," he said. Peeta did what he was told, wondering if this was part of the test, and sat down. "There's no need to worry about this, I'm just going to ask you some questions and I want you to answer honestly, alright?"

"Erm, okay?" Peeta replied.

"Alright," Cato said. He rubbed the back of his neck, obviously thinking of something important, before asking, "Have you ever had an inclination towards vampire or werewolf fiction or myth?"

Peeta shook his head. "No." This was true. Until two days ago, he hadn't ever been interested in either beings. He had read books featuring them-he was a book slut after all-but he wasn't inclined or interested in them at all.

"Are you double jointed?"

"Yes." The fact that he was double jointed was something he flaunted when he was younger but tried to keep quiet as of late. Peeta chose not to hide it from Cato because he had said that he would answer honestly. It might be important, anyhow, and he didn't know what he should pick and choose to tell him.

Cato nodded, as if this made sense. "Fast?"

Peeta's mind immediately went to the gold medals hanging from the hook on his bedroom wall. He didn't like to boast about them and didn't bring it up a lot but, again, he had to be honest with Cato. "Yes," he answered.

"What is your reaction to blood?" asked Cato.

Peeta shrugged. "I don't know. It's blood. It's vital, it keeps me alive. I'm not like one of those people who'd scream or pass out at the sight of it if that's what you mean."

"Have you ever tasted blood, even when you were a kid?"

Peeta didn't want to answer that one. He thought of the way he dealt with cuts or open wounds. Ever since he was five he'd wipe his hand across the injury and lick the blood off to get rid of it. He sheepishly nodded, hoping that he didn't seem like a freak to Cato.

Somehow, this made Cato smile. "Do you like the taste of it?"

Now that was something he had never thought about. Sure, he always licked it off to get rid of it but Peeta had never considered whether he liked the taste of blood or not. But he probably did, since he constantly did it. If his taste buds hadn't liked it then it would have refused his clean up action ages ago. "I suppose I do."

Running a hand through his hair, Cato asked the next question, "How good are your reflexes?"

Peeta shrugged. "Alright, I guess. I can react pretty quick to stuff, if that's what you mean."

"What about your relationship with animals?"

Ah, now there was something. It was weird, Peeta somehow got on really well with animals. They all seemed to gravitate towards him and showed great affectionate around him. It had been like this ever since he saw his first dog when he was three years old. "Pretty good," he finally answered, deciding not to over or under state it.

Cato sat down beside him on the trunk. The closeness of their bodies made every hair on Peeta's body stand to attention and every nerve tense in worry. Peeta couldn't look at him, instead staring at the ground beneath them. "And of course there's the obvious such as your appearance," Cato said. "I don't get it. You've never had it all before. There's normally an inclination towards wolf or vampire. But you've got signs of both. Equally."

Peeta picked at a loose piece of skin around his finger nail. "What do you mean my appearance?"

Cato chuckled. "The Undead have a habit of being . . . abnormally gorgeous and beautifully pale. You've certainly turned many heads since you've arrived here so that's a give in and your complexion is of the porcelin nature." Wow. Peeta hadn't thought that was what he had meant. A part of him wanted to ask Cato if he thought he was attractive but he bit down on the urge.

"Any other questions?" Peeta asked quietly, feeling completely embarrassed at the heat that flooded his cheeks at the comment.

"These woods," Cato said, "are they familiar in any way to you? Do you find anything about this situation familiar?"

"I suppose but it's extremely vague. I can't gather enough information to piece anything together just from a couple of deja vu sensations," replied Peeta. He scratched his head. "I just wish you would understand that I'm not what you want. I'm just me, plain, boring, predictable me. I can't even lead a normal life, apparently, let alone the lives of two different groups of supernatural beings."

"That's why I'm here," Cato said. "Because you forget everything, I have to help you remember. Except I fear it's going to be a lot more difficult this time around, since everything seems to be changing for reasons I can't understand at present."

"I think I would have realized by now if I was a wolf or an Undead," Peeta tried to reason. "I'm eighteen years old. Don't you think something like that would have came up by now?"

Cato laughed, the musical sound echoing in the isolated forest. "It's buried in your subconscious," he explained. He leaned forward and tapped Peeta's forehead with his finger. "Your primal instincts are in there somewhere, we just need to figure out how to unearth them, that's all."

Peeta stared at Cato in awe. He couldn't help noticing how close their faces were. Even an inch closer and their noses would be touching. An inexplicable thrill unsettled him as he realized that this would be the perfect opportunity to kiss Cato, despite the fact that he still didn't know if he could trust him. His mind was at war with its self. One side completely sure that Cato was just a crazy hybrid wolf-human who was full of bullshit and was just humouring him until the moment he decided to harvest his organs while the other desperately believed that they knew each other somehow.

Peeta was so lost that, even though it was only for the briefest of seconds, his lapse caused him to rip a little too hard on the loose skin he had been frevently picking at, causing it to bleed. He broke the trance with Cato with a hiss, shaking his hand to elevate the pain.

"Are you alright?" asked Cato.

"Fine," Peeta replied. He stuck his finger in his mouth and sucked the blood off, only realizing what he was doing once it was done. Cato quirked an amused eyebrow and he scowled. "Shut up."

Cato held his hands up. "I'm not judging," he said. "I have always found the diet plan of the Undead rather creepy but this is coming from an old wolf who eats raw meat 98 percentage of the time."

"That so strange, ever since I was seven I always thought that meat looked more appetizing raw than it did cooked," Peeta said. Cato looked thoroughly entertained and it only took Peeta a second to figure out why. "Don't look at me like that I'm still not who you're looking for."

"When are you going to stop saying that? How many signs do you need to see before you accept that what we're telling you is true?" asked Cato. Peeta shrugged. Despite the fact that his finger was still bleeding a little, he continued picking at it. The pain was keeping him grounded. Cato's eyebrows bunched together and he wrapped his hand around Peeta's to stop him. "Stop doing that."

"Why?" Peeta challenged.

"Because you're not going to have a finger left if you keep going at that," said Cato.

Peeta put his injured finger back into his mouth, feeling sort of childish. He felt stupid for doing it and wanted to hide the damage from Cato. "Was that the test?" he asked. "Those questions?"

"Not that I would doubt you," Cato said, "but I want to make sure you're not lying to me." Peeta stared at him in disbelief. Why would he lie to him? "I don't _think _you would lie to me but I just want to be 100 percent sure. There's a lot riding on this. Whether you are more Wolf or more Undead determines which camp you'll stay with."

Peeta immediately wanted to stay where he was. If he was given the choice, he would want to stay where he was, with the wolves. Even though he wasn't comfortable and he hadn't settled in, he didn't want to move to the Undead's camp where he knew no one at all.

"Well, how can you tell if I'm lying or not?" asked Peeta.

Cato stood up again. "Well I know you're not lying in terms of the taste of blood because you literally did it right in front of me." Peeta flushed in embarrassment, thinking Cato was poking fun at him. The older man smiled. "And then the beauty and pale are also Undead qualities that can't be questioned. So it's currently three to nothing."

The odds weren't looking good all of a sudden.

"Okay, stand up," Cato said. Surprised by his urgently, Peeta did as he was told and stood up. Even when he stood as straight as possible, his head was only level with Cato's chest. Peeta knew he wasn't the tallest person in the world but never had it bothered him so much.

For a moment Peeta thought Cato wasn't going to do anything. He just stood there, doing absolutely nothing. When he was just about to give up hope, the hairs on the back of his neck stood up, his nerves pricking up. It was instaneous and he didn't think, only acted. Peeta turned and grabbed Cato's fist before it could make it to his head. "What the hell?!" he yelled. Cato tried to hit him!

"Reflexes are good, like you said," Cato said, sounding not at all fazed at the fact that Peeta was freaked out by his actions. Just to make things worse, Cato took another swing with his other hand. When Peeta easily blocked it again with his spare hand it caused his arms to be crossed across each other.

"Are you crazy?!" Peeta shouted.

"Not entirely," Cato replied.

"What if my reflexes hadn't been good? What if I _had_ been lying?! You would have clocked me!"

Cato smirked. Peeta scowled at his arrogance. "I knew you wouldn't lie to me," he said.

"So you thought it would be okay to take swings at me?!" Peeta yelled. He was shocked that Cato had thought it would be okay to try and hit him just on the off chance that he would have the reflexes to block it. "Do you know how thoughtless that was of you?! You could have knocked me out! I mean, _look at you!_ You could knock me out just by flicking my forehead!" Peeta yanked his hands away from Cato and put them on his hips. "I can't believe you!"

Cato raised his eyebrows. "You done yet?"

"No!" Peeta said, even though he kind of was.

"Good." Cato moved impossibly fast. He grabbed Peeta's arm and wrapped an arm around his neck, pulling his back against his front.

"Hey!" Peeta tried to wrench out of the hold. "I wasn't ready!" He tried pulling Cato's arm away from him but it didn't budge. His arm was like pure steel covered in a layer of skin and muscle.

"You never were as fast as me," Cato teased, his breath hot across Peeta's ear. Peeta shivered. "This means it's three all. Fast, good reflexes, appearance, inclination towards blood, relationships with animals pretty good . . ."

"How did you know I was telling the truth about the animals?" Peeta demanded. If Cato was testing everything, why wasn't he testing the animals?

"Well I have to trust you on something, don't I?" Cato answered. Huh, he actually did trust him. This knowledge made Peeta smile for some reason. "Everything is so damn confusing. You're supposed to be more Undead than Wolf or more Wolf than Undead, not both. That's the way it's always went."

"Things are different, didn't you say?"

"I know but I can't believe how much." The arm around Peeta's neck tightened a little. Not with the intention of hurting him but it was more of a possessive hold. "Maybe this time you won't . . ."

"Maybe this time I won't what?" asked Peeta. Cato let go of him and stepped back. When Peeta turned around he was taken aback by how shell shocked Cato looked. "Are you okay?"

"I'll talk to you later. Stay put, don't stray from camp grounds."

"Wait, where are you going?" Peeta stepped forward, set on following Cato, but stopped when the older man held a hand up to stop him. "You can't leave me without answers again, please."

Cato shook his head. "I need to think some things through, I'm sorry." He jumped over another fallen tree trunk and disappeared into the woods. Peeta couldn't believe how quickly he had left, able to trust him to not stray away when he left.

Katniss came looking for him a few hours later. Peeta hadn't moved. He waited on Cato returning, sitting on the tree trunk and staring at the same spot intensely. He didn't know why he wanted Cato to come back but a part of Peeta couldn't leave in case he did.

"How are you doing?" asked Katniss, climbing over the trunk and sitting on her hands.

"I'm confused as anything," Peeta answered. He drew his knees up to his chest and continued staring at the point in which Cato had disappeared. "I don't know what's right and what's wrong anymore."

"Everything has certainly been turned upside down," Katniss said. She brushed her hair out of her face and sighed. Peeta glanced at her out of the corner of his eye before looking at her properly. She was wearing different clothes, made out of an animal skin of some sort.

"What are you wearing?" he asked.

"Gale gave me these. My other clothes got dirty in the scuffle," Katniss expained. "He's been such a jem, seriously."

"You two have been talking a lot, haven't you?" Peeta said.

"Yeah," Katniss admitted, her face turning pink in embarrassment. She looked away shyly and nibbled on her finger nails. "He's been telling me a lot. About what's been going on and stuff."

Peeta straightened up. "Really? What's he been saying?"

Katniss shrugged. "He told me that Delly's stories aren't all that accurate but kind of are at the same time. I dunno, he explained this incarnation thing or something? And they think you've been reborn again and again ever since the beginning of time or something? It's crazy."

"You don't believe that stuff, do you?" Peeta asked.

"I don't know, Peeta. I don't know about anything anymore. We're surrounded by werewolves and there are apparently vampires close by, I think anything is really possible. I don't think we can deny anything, it seems like anything's possible. It's an open playing field now . . . all of it . . ." Katniss trailed off, staring off into the woods as well.

"Did he . . . did he . . . say anything about . . ."

"That guy Cato?" Katniss grinned. "Yeah, he said a few things."

Peeta waited a moment, trying not to act like he didn't care that much. The second felt like it was dragging out for hours but he forced himself to not say anything until at least twenty seconds went by. "Oh? What sort of things?"

"Just that he acts as the leader of the pack in your absence, he's incredibly strict but a good leader," said Katniss. "He kind of acts as a mentor for you everytime you're reborn."

Peeta sighed. Things he already knew. Why was everyone so cryptic about everything? Why couldn't someone, anyone, give him a straight answer? "Katniss, you know I'm not their leader, right?" he asked. When Katniss didn't answer, he said it again. "You know I'm not their leader, right?"

"As I said before, I don't know about anything anymore," she answered.

"What about Delly and Madge?"

"I think they're pretty much the same."

Peeta shook his head. Was this actually happening? Even his own friends were believing he was this leader again. For the love of God, why was everyone so blind? He groaned and threw his head into his arms. "Kat, I'm _not_ a leader!"

"Maybe you should stop denying it and actually give it a go," said Katniss. "Embrace it for a bit, see how it goes?"

"But Katniss, I'm not-"

"Just try," Katniss insisted.

Peeta reluctant but Katniss had a point. Maybe if he tried to embrace it, he coud show the wolves that he wasn't their leader. Maybe they'd see that he was pathetic, they'd see that he couldn't lead them. He didn't deserve to be treated the way he was being treated. He didn't deserve to be treated as royalty, he just wanted to melt back into the shadows where he belonged.

He could always rely on the shadows.

~xXx~

Peeta found it difficult to sleep. He stayed in the same room as his friends, as since he hadn't accepted his position of power he couldn't sleep in the regal cabin. The bed was uncomfortable but the familiar snores of Madge and the gentle sighs of Delly as they slept were comforting. Katniss had always been weirdly quiet while she slept and the only way you could tell that she was alive was the gentle rise and falls of her chest.

He pressed his face against his arms and exhaled. His body ached from the stiffness of the mattress, but despite his fatigue, sleep couldn't find him.

The more sleep escaped him, the more frightened Peeta got, the more things he could think over. One of the things that kept coming back to him was the stuff Cato had told him about reincarnation. Every time he supposedly came into power as the pack and clan leader, he would die. Killed by an unamed assailant. Whether it be three or fifteen years later. Despite the fact that Peeta was completely convinced that he was not the leader, he couldn't help feeling unnerved at the fact that he could be murdered just because of a misunderstanding.

He was eighteen, as old as the statement was, he was too young to die.

_The knife dragged across his throat, the wound it left behind gaping open and spurting blood. Peeta choked, unexplainable pain exploding across his neck as warm blood trickled and ran down his skin. It came up his throat and he coughed it up, each breath scraping his chest like a sword scratching his diaphragm. He grappled at his neck with his hands, the blood immediately staining his hands and coating them in it._

_"Peeta!" Cato roared, lurching forward and catching Peeta as his legs came out from under him. "Oh god, so much blood . . . Peeta, okay, it's going to be okay. You're okay, you're going to be fine."_

_"I c-can't bre-breathe."_

_"Sssh, I know, it's alright," Cato whispered. He cradled Peeta in his arms, the blood started to smear all over his own clothes and skin. "Save your breath, it's alright. Marvel's coming now and he's going to help you." His eyes glistened. Tears? "You're not doing this again, it's too soon. You're going to pull through."_

_Peeta wanted to believe him. He tried to cling to Cato's voice, to hold by focusing on his words, but he wasn't strong enough. He was just too tired. He closed his eyes, feeling himself sink as if he were melting into the ground. Water splattered his face, like rain, but somehow he knew it wasn't the weather. Something pressed against his lips and he heard a voice speaking. He couldn't hear what they were saying, however, as it was wavering like it was underwater._

_Then it went dark._

Peeta fell out of bed with a scream, hitting the floor hard on his side. Thankfully, he didn't wake anyone up this time. He paused, ignoring the pain in his arm, and felt a wave of relief as he could still hear his friends sleeping soundly. He pushed himself up to sit on the floor, examining his arm to check the damage. There wasn't any, just a soft pain in his muscles.

His hand went to his throat. He could still feel the pain now, the blood dripping down from his neck. Out of all the flashbacks he had had so far, that one was the most disturbing. Peeta couldn't stop shivering, the nightmare replaying again and again in his mind.

Peeta got to his feet and left the cabin, sitting down on the steps leading up to the door. He was so tired but he couldn't find rest. It seemed that every time he closed his eyes, a frightening, perplexing or gruesome flashback flashed before his eyes. And every single one of them included Cato, who was completely bi-polar with whether he wanted to give him answers or take off into the woods and leave him behind without any answers.

He must know Cato from somewhere. He _must_. But how he didn't know. It wasn't anything intimate, it couldn't be, because someone like Cato wouldn't waste his time with someone like him. Peeta couldn't hold down a relationship, all those flashbacks about kisses and intimacy must be nothing but dreams. He had a habit of thinking wishfully. Maybe that was all it was. When he laid eyes on Cato, his brain must have be incapable of processing the older man's dazzling charm and good looks and started fantasizing about impossible things.

_"I love you." Cato wouldn't let him respond. He just continued to kiss him senseless. _

_"I. Love. You. Too." Peeta managed to gasp in the inbetween the sparse breaks for breath. He didn't want to breathe because kissing Cato was like inhaling the most delicious of nectars. Cato's urgency was confusing, however. He was being desperate and greedy, almost as if he was trying to live every second they had together to the fullest._

_"I love you so, so much," Cato insisted. "You know that, don't you?"_

_Peeta nodded, unable to speak because of how much his lover was devouring his mouth. He wanted to express his affection and love as well but he couldn't. Cato was treating this as if it were their last kiss. But they had so many years to come where they could kiss. This wasn't their last._

_Was it?_

Peeta put his head between his knees and shuddered. He was scared. He was really scared. He didn't want any of this. He wanted his life to be normal again. He didn't want to be daydreaming about Cato or thinking about being murdered in a few years time. He didn't want any of it.

He just wanted to go home.

_**A/N: Please R&R with your thoughts, I love hearing what everyone thinks!**_


	6. Trials of Leadership

**A/N: I love the reaction to this story, you're all so kind and your speculations are making me more eager to pump these chapters out! :D**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Hunger Games.**

**Chapter Six: Trials of Leadership **

Peeta didn't know how long he sat in front of the cabin. Time seemed to run together into a long, agonizing blurr. Many thoughts ran around in his head but they all began to repeat themselves until basically the same things were running laps in his mind. Things like how inadequate he was for a leadership position, how eventually he was going to die, many . . . many uncomfortable and fearful thoughts concerning Cato.

"You're up early."

Peeta jumped in surprise, banging into the stairway railing in shock. Marvel had appeared beside him, sitting casually on the steps as if he hadn't just blinked into existence. He wasn't wearing his sunglasses, nor was he carrying an umbrella. Peeta supposed it was because it was completely dark outside and there was still no sign of dawn any time soon.

"Are you trying to give me a heart attack?" Peeta exclaimed, clutching his chest as if it would slow down his beating heart.

Marvel shrugged. "You hardly consider things such as heart attacks when you don't have a heart to beat," he said. He lazily rolled his head so his eyes fell on Peeta. "Has Cato tested you yet?"

Peeta nodded, his heart still pounding after its shock. "Yeah. He did it earlier," he said.

"What was the result?" asked Marvel.

"Three each, I think?" Peeta said. He folded his arms and rested them on his knees. He gauged Marvel's reaction. If the Undead was as surprised with the equal results as Cato had been he didn't show it. Peeta shrugged, as if it weren't that big a deal. "Cato said it was an abnormality?"

"It is," said Marvel. He inspected a fleck of soil on his jacket sleeve. "You're certainly something different this time around. It's kind of refreshing. The same thing over and over again for thouands of years does get a bit boring, doesn't it?"

Peeta could imagine. "I suppose it does," he said. "Although I'm still not entirely sold on the reincarnation thing. For all I know, you and Cato and all the other people in this camp are high on hallucingentic drugs and my friends and I just ran into you all at the wrong time. I mean, you can't honestly expect me to believe all this easily, do you?"

Marvel leaned back on his elbows, letting his head fall back to stare at the stars. "Life is short, why shouldn't you believe us?" he asked. "Well, I say life is short. For you, not for me. I'm older than these woods." Peeta wondered how old the woods were. It takes more than ten years for a single tree to grow to it's full height and all of the old trees look like they were at least one hundred years old. How old did that make Marvel, exactly?

"I don't suppose you can bite some other child and make them your leader?" Peeta guessed. "As you say, after doing everything the same for thousands of years gets boring, doesn't it? You could find someone different to spice things up a little."

Marvel snorted. "It doesn't work like that," he said.

"Then how does it work, exactly?"

"It works by following the orders we have been following since the beginning of our clans." Marvel sighed and closed his eyes, as if wishing to get a tan from the moonlight. "Have you even thought about giving it a go?"

Peeta thought of what Katniss told him about giving it a go. She said that he should see how it goes, to see if when he accepts his role whether it works out or not. Peeta was still convinced that it would be a disaster but maybe if he went along with it and Cato and Marvel saw this then he would be allowed to go home.

"I haven't not thought about it," said Peeta.

Marvel smirked. "You do know that whether you thought about it or not, you _will_ become our leader, don't you?" he asked.

Peeta stared at him. "No, I didn't," he said. "And frankly, you can't force me into something I don't want to do." He hated how childish that sounded. Like a student complaining about not wanting to do the homework the teacher set. "If I say no, you have no way of making me do anything."

"Trust me, we have ways. You have never denied us before but we have prepared in case you do. Cato doesn't like our methods and that's why he's so keen for you to come to the decision on your own. His emotions are his greatest enemy," Marvel explained.

The last sentence struck Peeta as strange. Cato obviously cared a great deal about him but there was still no explanation as to why. Maybe Marvel would give him the answers he needed. "What is Cato to me, exactly?" he asked. "Because he won't tell me himself and surely you know, if you've been around as long as you claim you have."

Marvel laughed. His amusement was confusing. "It is not my place to tell you what Cato is or isn't," he answered. Peeta's heart sank in disappointment. "Just know that he cares deeply for you and will not let harm of any kind fall upon you."

"But if I die as much as you claim, he mustn't be very good at his job," said Peeta.

"No matter how hard we try to keep it away, death always finds you. It cannot be helped. All Cato can do is keep harm out of the way as long as he can until it manages to slip past him and find you behind his back," Marvel replied. "He does his job well. The prophecy had always been that you would die within three years of becoming leader but the longest Cato has managed to keep you alive for has been nineteen years."

Peeta watched a bug crawl around the beam supporting the wooden banister. "What's the shortest time I've been kept alive for?"

"Six months." Marvel said this casually, as if it wasn't alarming in the slightest. When he noticed Peeta's horrified expression, he grinned. "It happened quite a while ago. Cato had just went out to investigate a suspicious happening in the woods and when he came back you'd bitten it. I don't think he's ever fogiven himself for it and that's why he doesn't stray too far from home anymore. Too far from _you_."

Despite the fact that what Marvel had said sounded extremely clingy, Peeta felt touched by Cato's determination. "Why can't he just tell me how he knows me?" he asked. "Surely it's not bad if he's trying to keep me alive."

"I think it's because everything's changing," Marvel explained. "Maybe he's letting himself dare to hope that if all these variables are altering and changing, maybe the fact that you're meant to die will change too. But we have to find out why first. Why now? What's made all this happen?"

"Is all this really worth the trouble?" Peeta muttered.

"You're our leader, Peeta. Of course it's worth the trouble," Marvel replied. Peeta looked at him with a frown. He noticed for the first time that there were no colour to them, they were just void black. Marvel smirked back, as if able to read his thoughts and winked. The Undead lay back on the deck and closed his eyes again. "You know, you and I used to date back in the 1800s."

"What?!" Peeta exclaimed. "No, we didn't!"

"Yeah, we did," said Marvel. He didn't sound offended by Peeta's reaction, thankfully. "No emotions attached, however, I can't be dealing with romance. It was purely physical. From 1818 to 1820 you were such a horny little thing. For a person so small you held a lot of sexual frustration inside."

Even though Peeta did not remember any of this, he felt embarrassed none-the-less. Like Marvel knew something extremely secret about him that he didn't even know himself. "I wouldn't screw around like that," he said.

"1800s you would," Marvel contradicted. "You spent most of the 19th Century in my camp anyway. You were always Undead then. I think only once, from 1876 to 1881, you were a wolf. Ah, that was a fun century."

"There are other ways to have fun," Peeta muttered. He tried not to think about the fact that, if he wasn't any different from the way he was in all his past 'lives' except for his hair colour, that Marvel probably knew what he looked like without a stitch of clothing on him.

"But sex is always the best way," said Marvel. He cracked an eye open and stared at Peeta. "Have you not noticed the wolves ways of having fun?"

Peeta tried not to think about it. The wolves obviously didn't mind public displays of affection and indulged in bedroom activities on the forest floor, not caring who saw. Peeta knew he would never act like that, nor would he let anyone watch when he finally decided to be intimate with someone.

"I've noticed but it doesn't mean I condone it," Peeta replied.

"Urgh, it's so annoying when you're a prude," Marvel muttered, closing his eye again and directing his face to the sky. "Cato loves it best when you're like this. You're easier to control. I find it better when you're a little wild and feral. It has seemed that the more modern the age, the more controlled and level-headed you become. Which is a shame, really, since the 19th Century you would be a minx in the skinny jeans of today."

"Do you ever think about anything other than sex?" asked Peeta, trying to hide his disgust.

"There's nothing else to think about," said Marvel. "Other than training you, of course. We don't have duties or obligations like humans do. We're free to do as we please. Which mostly involves fucking." For some reason, the brash use of the term made Peeta flinch. He didn't know why, as he had heard it on many occasions before. "What do you want me to say? That we play board games and do pictionary in the dirt? Because I'm not inclined towards lying, especially not to you."

Peeta blew his hair out of his eyes. The bug on the beam flew away, as if upset with the unsettlement of air. "You could at least try," he muttered.

Marvel rolled his eyes. "I'm sorry, I don't lie," he said. He looked up at the sky, which was beginning to show signs of dawn. "I better go, lest I dissolve into a puddle of ash." He sat up and leaned into Peeta, so his lips lingered over his ear, not quite touching but as close as it could get. "I'll see you around, _baby_."

With those words, he was gone.

That sentence sparked something in Peeta. Another flash of familiarity. He closed his eyes and focused on it, on those five words, reaching out and grasping it. He tore it open before it faded and watched as the flashback played out behind his closed lids.

_He hung over the cabin railing, trying to reach the chain which he had accidentally dropped over onto the other side. Instead of doing the logical thing, which would have been to walk around the cabin to the other side, he went for the difficult option, as usual._

_A hand smacked his ass and he yelped, spinning around to face the perpetrator. He immediately relaxed when he saw Marvel, grinning at him like a cat that got the cream. "Hey sexy, what are you doing sticking your ass in the air in such an appetising manner then?" the Undead teased._

_"Oh, you know how everything I do is to wet your appetite," he teased back._

_Marvel pushed forward and kissed him, claiming his lips in the possesive manner he always did. He moaned and closed his eyes, letting the Undead man back him into the railing. He sat ontop and wrapped his legs around Marvel's waist, pulling the older man's hips flush against his own. _

_He pushed his fingers through Marvel's hair, his body on fire despite the cool night air. Marvel's hand felt down his back and grabbed his backside, squeezing it just hard enough that it as teetering on the edge of pain and pleasure. He hummed his approval and pulled him closer, not able to get enough of what he was being given._

_"Marvel!" Both pulled apart and turned to the source of the voice. Cato jumped up the cabin steps and stood a few feet away, looking like a father prepared to scold his children. "Don't you have a clan to be superivising?"_

_"I had a little spare time. Didn't I, baby?" He pulled him closer, a devillish smirk on his face. _

_"Damn right you did," he replied, giggling like a schoolgirl._

_"Okay, I think that's enough play time for today," Cato said measuredly. "Marvel, time to skidaddle."_

_"Alright then,_ dad_," Marvel replied. He pressed a kiss against his lips and disappeared, leaving him sitting on the railing flushed and unsatisified._

_Cato narrowed his eyes at him. "Peeta, I've warned you time and time again not to get involved with Marvel. He can't be controlled. If you ended up . . . in the moment with him . . . he could drain you on impulse."_

_"Marvel's not going to kill me," he snapped. He was getting annoyed with how Cato interfered with everything that went on in his life. "I'm not going to die just because I'm having fun! God knows you wouldn't do anything with me so don't you dare get jealous just because I found someone else! You're not my dad!"_

_"Peeta, you don't know anything about Marvel. He's only after you for a quick high. The Undead don't couple for marriage, they couple for sex, that's it," Cato said. He tried to take his hand but he didn't let him, jerking his hand away from him._

_"Then that's my choice to make! It's my life not yours!"_

_Cato shook his head. "I'm only trying to protect you."_

_He jumped off the railing and pushed past Cato. "Well don't."_

"Are the memories coming back?"

Peeta's eyes flew open in surprise. Cato was at the bottom the steps, watching him intently. "What?" Peeta asked, even though he had heard what the wolf had said clearly.

"The memories," Cato said, "are they coming back?"

"Sort of," Peeta replied. The latest one had unseated him. He didn't like what he saw about his past self. He was greedy, childish and rude. He couldn't even look Cato in the eyes without thinking about how he had snapped and shouted at him just because he had tried to protect him from Marvel. "I wasn't that much of a whore, was I?"

Cato sighed and sat down beside him. "Of course you weren't," he said. "You were always impressionable when you arrived at the camps and sometimes Marvel got there before I did. He'd leave a . . . less than desirable impression on you. It's not your fault."

"So he'd corrupt me?" asked Peeta.

"He doesn't mean to. It's just how he is. We all have our set ways and routines and Marvel's just happened to be of the corrupting nature," Cato explained.

"I'm not impressionable now," Peeta said. It was true. He had just held an entire conversation with Marvel and the man hadn't tried to corrupt him at all. "Maybe things _are_ changing." Cato smiled. Peeta's heart fluttered at the sight. His eyes fell to the ground and he struggled for words. "I'm . . . sorry. For how I behaved."

"When?" asked Cato.

"Um, I'm not entirely sure when it was but . . . I was just really rude and it was completely unnecessary."

"Peeta, you don't have to apologize for anything," Cato said. "Especially if it's something you see when your memories return. You don't have to worry about your past lives, just focus on them enough until you get to the point where you believe me about the fact you've been reincarnated many times."

Really, after everything he had seen so far it was getting harder and harder to deny that he had been reincarnated. Marvel's answers had given him nothing so far so Peeta decided to go right for it and ask Cato what had been prying on his mind since the beginning.

"What are you to me, Cato?" he asked. "Surely it can't be so bad that you can't tell me. If it were bad then you wouldn't be so nice to me." Cato was silent. Peeta worried that he had crossed a line. Maybe he should have just kept his mouth shut. "I'm sorry, you don't have to answer that if you don't want to."

Cato scratched the back of his head thoughtfully. "Just trust me, for now. That's all I ask," he said.

Peeta nodded, disappointment swelling in his chest. "Okay," he said quietly. "I will."

"But it's nothing bad," Cato quickly said. His urgency for Peeta to know this made him smile. "I promise." Peeta suddenly wanted to find another memory. He wanted to see more of him and Cato together. He wanted to try and figure what they were to each other.

"I better go . . . I need some sleep." Peeta stood up and smiled at Cato. "I'll see you later?"

"See you later," Cato replied. Peeta reluctantly went to the door, not entirely sure whether he really wanted to get rest or not. "Oh, and Peeta?"

He turned, his heart quivering with nerves. "Yeah?" he said.

"No matter how many times you turned your back on me for Marvel, you always come back to me in the end." Cato's words dripped in satisfaction and Peeta couldn't fight the smile on his face.

Maybe things weren't going to be as bad as first thought.

**A/N: I apologize for any typos! Please R&R! :)**


	7. Suggestive Recollections

**A/N: Big thanks to anyone who read and reviewed! :)**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Hunger Games. That's kind of the idea of fanfiction, right? It's written by the **_**fans**_** . . . ?**

**Chapter Seven: Suggestive Recollections**

Peeta found it difficult to sleep the next few nights. Now that he had unlocked the technique of uncovering memories from his past, they attacked him in his sleep. He couldn't stop them, especially when he was unconscious, and they poured into his head in an endless onslot of overhwelming remembrance. Some of them were okay, while others were unnerving.

The ones that involved Cato were his favourite.

The memories that vaugely came to him allowed him to piece together a scrambled image of what sort of relationship they had. Well, one year it would be a relationship, the next it would see a friendship. Another time it would come off as Cato was a parent figure, then he would be a stranger keeping a watchful eye. Peeta couldn't understand any of it. It was like they were so many things at once.

"I screwed one of the guys last night," Delly gushed.

Madge raised her eyebrows and looked around at many guys milling around the woods. "Which one?" she asked incredulously.

Delly pulled a face. "I don't know," she said. "Uh . . . I don't think he's here right now."

Peeta wasn't that surprised. Delly was famous for her quickies with various guys. She didn't have standards. As long as they weren't sweaty and have snot dripping out their nose, she didn't care. Peeta coudn't understand how she could just do that without care but he didn't question her ways. If she wanted to do that then it was her decision to.

Madge managed to swallow her judgement. Peeta was surprised, normally she would have told Delly exactly what she thought about her conquest. Yet . . . she didn't. Huh. "Where's Katniss?" she asked, changing the subject.

"She's with that guy Gale," Delly answered. She examined her nails and tsked. "Why would such a hottie like him go for a girl like her?"

"A girl like her?" Peeta repeated.

Delly shrugged. "You know, a prude." Before either Madge or Peeta could respond, she had moved on. "Although, Gale has nothing on that guy Cato. Too bad he bats for another team." Both of them looked at Peeta with cocked eyebrows.

"What?" he demanded, his face flushing.

"You know what," Delly teased. "Everyone knows that blond hunk Cato has the hots for you."

"No, he doesn't," Peeta protested.

Delly's face lit up. "Then can I have him then?"

Peeta's eyes widened in horror. "No!" he exclaimed. The thought of Delly and Cato together was unthinkable, he couldn't stand it. "You said so yourself, he bats for the other time. He wouldn't be interested in . . . you."

Madge grinned. "He'd be an idiot not to like you, Peeta," she said. "You're a hottie. You've turned more heads in the camp than Katniss, Delly and I combined." Delly opened her mouth to protest but Madge covered her mouth with her hand. "Even if Cato hasn't noticed, the other wolves certainly have."

"I don't know about that Madge," said Peeta. He picked a blade of grass out of the ground and picked at it. "And even if they were, it's probably because I'm their supposed leader." He pulled more grass out of the soil and anxiously picked at it. "I'm not the sort of person people stare at in . . . _that_ way." He hadn't saw anyone looking at him anyway but apparently they were.

"Oh really?" asked Delly. "Then why is there a guy behind you right now giving you the once over?"

"Are you sure he's not looking over my shoulder at you?" Peeta asked, uninterested.

Delly squinted. "Nope, definitely looking at you."

"Well, I'm touched, I'm sure." Really, Peeta wasn't that worried about pervy wolves and how they looked at him. The only person he really cared about in the pack was Cato, which was odd because he hadn't even known the man a week. If Cato had been, as Delly put it, 'giving him the once over', then it would have been a completely different story. He would have been extremely embarrassed then.

"You've been very restless in your sleep lately," Madge said, placing a concerned hand on Peeta's knee. "You'd mumble and twist around a lot."

"It's fine," said Peeta, dismissing her. He didn't want to discuss the memories and how they would unsettle his sleep. He knew it wouldn't be long before the girls noticed that he was having trouble he just wished he had been a lot more prepared to answer before the questions started. What was he supposed to say to them? He didn't like to lie to them but pretending that things were fine was easier than trying to explain the flashbacks dreams.

Madge shrugged. "If you say so," she said. Peeta liked how she didn't question anything he told her. She looked around and sighed. "I better go, Thom said to meet him at the copse of pine trees."

"I'm going to talk to that guy staring at Peet, see if I can tempt him myself," Delly said, standing up with a flourish.

Peeta didn't mind sitting on his own. In fact, he was growing more and more accustomed to it. He was used to it, since his friends had always been more confident when it came to socialising than him, and there would be many a night he would spend sitting on his own while they talked to guys. Meh, it didn't matter.

Peeta got a sudden urge to go into the woods. It was a weird compulsion but he just didn't want to hang around the main camp anymore. How familiar everything still felt gave him the creeps and he knew that if he didn't keep himself busy then he would become completely consumed with his desire for answers. The woods were amazing. There was something about the open air and smell of nature that was so . . . refreshing. Peeta had never thought of himself as an outdoorsy person but now he couldn't imagine why. The forest felt like a second nature to him. He knew exactly where to go, like the entire area was mapped out in his head.

Something snapped behind him. Like a twig or a branch of some sort. It sounded distant, while also ringing loud in his ears. Peeta turned his head slightly, looking as far round as he could without actually turning completely around to face whoever was behind him. Was someone following him?

"I never really could sneak up on you."

Relief flooded Peeta system and he actually found himself smiling. He turned to face Cato, pleased to see the older man. "Couldn't you?" he asked.

"Not at all. At least it wasn't like the last time, you almost ripped my face off that time," Cato said as he approached. They stood in a circle clearing, lit up by the sun that spilled through the gap between the leaves. "It was my fault, I suppose. You had just turned for the first time and was finding it difficult to adjust. I should have known better."

Peeta felt the urge to apologize, even though he couldn't remember trying to scratch Cato's face off, but smothered it. What Cato had told him that night outside the cabin flashed in his mind. That he didn't have to apologize for anything he did in his past lives. Instead, he opted for a question. "What do you mean turned for the first time?" he asked.

Cato's eyes flashed, flickering into the black slits Peeta had saw for that first night, before turning back to normal. "Turning," he said. "It's basically what it says on the tin. It's the transition between human and wolf."

Peeta, instantly curious, stepped closer to Cato and leaned in. "Do that again."

Cato did without question. He let the change linger, so Peeta could have a proper look at his slitted eyes without having to worry about them turning back. He grinned, showing off the two pointed canines that were wedged between his front teeth. Peeta had a compulsion to reach out and touch them. Gently, of course, just to test their sharpness, but he held back.

"Of course, this is only half turning," Cato explained, letting his eyes go back to normal. "Full turning is the whole-" He made a flippant gesture with his hand-"wolf, dog, hairy shabang."

"Shabang, is that a scientific term?" Peeta asked, shocked that his voice sounded teasing.

"I like to think of it as an exotic reference," answered Cato.

They stared at each other. Peeta couldn't look away, as if Cato was a hypnotist and he was the volunteer from the audience. There was just something so . . . so _mystifying_ about the older man's gorgeous green eyes that made Peeta wish he could stare at them forever. Cato didn't look away, either, which made him worry that maybe the wolf thought he was a kook with a staring issue. His mother had always said that you should stare at things you find beautiful, regardless of what others may thing, because you shouldn't deny yourself that right.

"What sort of wolf am I?" Peeta blurted out. He wasn't sure where the question had come from but now that it was out in the open he was genuinely interested in how Cato would answer.

The question sparked something in Cato as an affectionate grin grew onto his face. Or maybe he was just amused by the answer he was about to give, even though Peeta couldn't imagine how. "You're one of a kind," he answered.

Those five words, spoken with so much certainity, caused warmth to spread in Peeta's chest. He smiled. "Really? How so?"

"Well, normally a wolf's fur colour would manifest depending on their hair colour. For example, since I'm blond, my fur is blond." Cato seemed to take joy in explaining this to Peeta, his eyes gleaming in excited. It was a welcome sight. "But your hair-in the past, anyway-was dark. It always had been, ever since the beginning of time. But your fur was white."

"White?" Peeta echoed. Could wolves even be white?

Cato nodded. The expression on his face was seemed . . . content, almost. "The most beautiful white," he said.

Peeta fought the pleased blush that threatened to expose how happy he was. He had never been specially significent throughout his entire eighteen years and now Cato-a handsome werewolf-was telling him that he was a one of a kind wolf. "Do you think I'd still be white now, even though my hair colour's changed?"

"I hope so," said Cato.

"How will you ever find out?" asked Peeta. As soon as the question was out of his mouth, realization flooded over him. "Oh. I have to turn." The way the grin reappeared on Cato's face, Peeta knew he was right. "But how? I can't even decipher the flashbacks right now, how am I supposed to be able to cope with turning into a wolf? Not that I believe that will actually happen."

Cato gestured for Peeta to sit and they both sat in the clearing facing one another. "What sort of flashbacks have you been experiencing?" he asked. Against his own will, Peeta's mind cast immediately to the most . . . amorous of flashbacks involving Cato. Most of his flashbacks involved Cato, who featured in the varying forms that still confused Peeta now. Brother, lover, enemy, friend . . . what _was_ he?

In the memory, to put it bluntly without being crude, they were having sex. The thought of it still sent a shiver through Peeta's system. He hadn't actually believed it when he woke up, thinking it had just been a nasty dream. And not nasty in the disgusting, offensive way, nasty in the terms of the sort of sex they had actually been having.

Peeta didn't shy away from sex. He knew it was a part of life. He wasn't a child, he didn't giggle at the mention of the word as if it were the most outrageous thing he had ever heard. The whole flashback had just caught him completely off guard. He had been pondering what Cato was to him ever since he arrived at the camp and that specific flashback should have been all the evidence he needed to come to a conclusion. But it wasn't and it didn't. Peeta couldn't accept that it was something as simple as lovers. Or maybe not even lovers. Maybe they had just been fuck buddies or something . . .

"Were we lovers?" Peeta blurted before he had properly thought it through. The silence that followed was agonizing. All he could hear was the wind as it ruffled the leaves, causing them to sway in the drift.

Cato quirked an amused eyebrow. "Where did that come from?" he asked.

Peeta couldn't meet his eyes. Never mind hypnotism, this was too embarrassing a situation. "Well . . . in one of the flashbacks we were having sex." Even though he wasn't afraid of it, saying it out loud was mortifying and Peeta wished the ground would swallow him up.

"It really depends on what time period it was," Cato answered. He didn't poke fun or tease Peeta for admitting that he had had a dream about them doing it. He was diplomatic and sensible about the entire thing. But his words still didn't make sense. What did he mean that it depended on the time period. Surely if they were lovers in one time then they'd be it again in the next and the one after that.

An image of Marvel and him kissing against the cabin railing flashed in Peeta's mind. Or maybe not.

"I couldn't really tell what the time period was," said Peeta.

"I woudn't really think so. There wouldn't be many signs," Cato replied.

Peeta frowned. "In one of them, you were dressed in vintage clothes. Like a waistcoat sort of thing. You had a fob watch, as well, on your interior pocket. If you live in the woods, why have cause for period clothes?" Now that he thought about it, most of the wolves-he hadn't seen much of the Undead, only Marvel-wore clothes made out of animal hides, leaves or sometimes just wandered around completely nude, but Cato wore mordern clothes.

"I sometimes have to venture into the District," Cato explained. "To make sure we aren't under suspicion from the locals. It's why we kidnapped you and your friends that night. We thought you were a threat. And all threats have to be elimnated. I like to blend in and I doubt if I went out wearing the skins of a bear I had killed that I would fit in much."

"No, you probably wouldn't," Peeta answered. He drew little patterns in the dirt with his pointer finger. He risked looking at Cato again. The hypnotising spell fell over him again and he held the older man's gaze with ease, despite the pounding of his panicking heart. "When can I try turning?"

Cato chuckled. "Soon, I promise," he said.

Peeta grinned. "I'm going to hold you to that."

~xXx~

_Each kiss burned through his skin like fire, sliding through his veins until it reached his chest and set his heart alight. Peeta moaned, his eyes fluttering like the wings of a butterfly as he fought to control his emotions. He was sweating, even though it wasn't even that hot outside, and his hair was glued to his forehead due to the heat. He felt like he was tripping, on a high of some sort, when the truth was he was painfully sober. They both were._

_His fingers pushed through silky golden locks, Cato's name rushing past his swollen lips in a pleasured sigh. The hand not desperately clutching his lover's head clutched his lower back, nails digging painfully into the strong, sweaty skin. They moved against each other insync, each time sending volts of electricity pulsing through their hungry bodies._

_Peeta gave in and closed his eyes, arching his back into Cato in surrender. He wrapped his legs around the older man's waist, using the leverage to pull them closer. Cato groaned, his mouth licking and sucking on the sensitive skin of Peeta's neck. He smirked at his partner's submission, trailing his hand up his thigh and letting his hand push underneath. _

_When Cato took a soft but firm grip of his ass Peeta gasped, the sound immediately dissolving into a lewd purr. He threw his head back, giving Cato's mouth more skin to explore, and ground his hips up against Cato's._

_Both moaned in unison, unable to contain their carnal urges._

Peeta woke up in a cold sweat. The covers were bunched at his feet, where he must have kicked them in his sleep. Peeta swallowed the lump in his throat, glad that he was alone. His friends were with their wolf buddies, staying in their cabins for the night. Peeta could ony guess that they weren't playing scrabble or trivial pursuit in those cabins.

Wiping the sweat from his forehad and pushing his damp hair back out of the way, Peeta noticed that his dream had given him an erection. Oh god, what was he supposed to do now? He let himself fall onto his back on his bed and winced a little at how wet his skin felt. He hadn't really thought about it before but he was going to have to figure out a means of getting washed. He'd have to ask Cato tomorrow.

The mere thought of Cato caused the dream to resurface in Peeta's head. It didn't make the perdicament in his crotch any easier and heat that had previously been pooled in his stomach went straight down into his groin, making it almost painful to endure. Damn, what was he going to do?

Peeta tried to think of old grannies. Not just old grannies. Old grannies and granddads. Old grannies and granddads in bathing suits on hot, sweaty days. It worked, thankfully, and he was able to throw the bedcovers over his body again without having to worry about pitching a tent. But how was he supposed to face Cato tomorrow without thinking about the dream? Not just the dream but the hard-on it caused?

Peeta groaned and disappeared under his bed covers, hiding in the comfortable gloom it provided.

Tomorrow was going to be difficult.

**A/N: Things are certainly hotting up! **

**Please R&R with your thoughts! :D**


	8. Macabre Moon

**Discalimer: I don't own the Huner Games.**

**Chapter Eight: Macabre Moon**

Peeta avoided Cato for the entirety of the next day. It was surprsingly easy, he just went off for a walk in the woods, in a random direction in which he hadn't travelled before. He stayed out of the way of everyone because it reached the point where it didn't matter who they were, his mind was just immediately consumed with thoughts of the past.

On his detour, he found a lake in a secluded part of the forest. Hygiene hadn't really been his number one priority since he had arrived but he had become increasingly aware recently of how greasy and he had become. He wasn't entirely keen on the idea of washing out in the open but he didn't have any other option.

Peeta waited until it was dark. He couldn't do it during the day when the sun was still shining. The possibility of someone passing by and seeing him was smaller at night than it would be during the day. The cover of darkness was comforting, especially since he was going to have to take his clothes off to be properly clean.

The water was surprisingly warm for the climate. It was pretty deep, reaching his chest near the edge and his neck in the middle. The moon set the water in the middle alight, an ivory glow spilling through the gap in the leaves. For some reason, Peeta felt tempted towards it, like it would provide him with something missing from his life. He waded into the water until he was submerged and tentatively reached out to touch the white reflection with his fingertips.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you."

Peeta acted on impulse and ducked under the water. He knew who it was. Somehow recognizing voices, even if they're behind him, was increasingly easy. He hadn't considered that the Undead would be out and about at night, which was pretty silly considering that the only time they could go out was at night when it was dark. Urgh, what was he going to do now? He couldn't get out of the water, his clothes were sitting on the bank of the pond.

Peeta hadn't realized how long he had been under the water until he remembered that he shouldn't be able to swim. It had been several minutes but his lungs weren't even the tiniest bit tired. He pushed himself back up, only so his eyes peered over the surface. As predicted, Marvel was standing on an elevated part of the bank.

"I wouldn't do that," the Undead man repeated, gesturing at the moon's reflection in the water. "It's a full moon tonight."

Peeta glanced upwards, to where the moon hung suspended in the sky. Marvel was right, it was full. For some reason the knowledge sent a thrill of excitement through him. Like a full moon was, for some reason, special. However, the serious lilt to Marvel's words caused him to move away from its reflection none-the-less.

Marvel grinned and scooped up his t-shirt. "I was wondering how long it would take you to find the pond," he said. He rubbed the material of Peeta's t-shirt between his thumb and forefinger. "If you want I can get Glimmer to make you new clothes. I mean, I'm sure you're not the sort to wish to walk around in animal skins like the wolves."

Peeta pushed his head just enough out of the water so he could speak. He wasn't keen on Marvel seeing him naked, even though he already had in a past life. "Why are you here?" he asked. He didn't mean for it to sound as rude as it came out but once it did come out he realized that he didn't really like Marvel that much. Probably because he always seemed to be standing in the way of him and Cato.

"To stop you doing something you probably aren't ready for," Marvel answered.

Peeta brushed his wet hair back out of his eyes. He was surprised how he was able to keep himself afloat as he had never been able to swim but, for some reason, it was coming quite easily to him. He simply pushed his hands out away from him and kept his legs moving under the water. How it had been so difficult in the past was beyond him. "Why? What was I about to do?" he asked.

"The moonlight," Marvel said. "Especially since it's a full moon. The shine of the moon on your skin will turn you."

"Turn me?" Peeta repeated. "Cato said he was going to show me how to turn."

"Into a wolf, sure. But you're still part Undead, remember," Marvel replied. "I can show you how to turn as well but the moon . . . it kind of triggers the Undead part of you. In all of us. It's why we don't venture around this pond. It will turn already turned Undead into feral monsters. We both worship and fear the moon."

Peeta looked behind him at the moon's reflection in the water. Maybe that was why he had been so tempted toward it. He inched away from it and turned back to Marvel. He ducked underneath one last time to make sure he got all the grime out of his hair and swam back to the edge of the pond. "Can you hand me my pants, please?" He didn't care if he had to pull his pants on in the water, he wasn't getting out in front of Marvel until he was decently covered.

"You've been many things, Peeta, but I think this is the first time you've ever been shy," Marvel teased.

"Just give me my pants," Peeta snapped. He wasn't _shy_, he just wasn't fond of the idea of being perved on by a past life's old flame.

Marvel grinned, obviously undeterred. "You know, there's no point in being coy about that sort of thing. If I wanted to see you, all I have to do is close my eyes."

Peeta stared at him for a long, hard moment. "You're not being serious," he said.

"Photographic memory," Marvel replied, tapping his temple.

"I'd appreciate it if you didn't do that," said Peeta. Marvel chuckled but nodded, throwing him his pants. It was difficult to put them on underwater but he managed, getting out with his jeans sticking to him like a second skin because of how wet the material had gotten. He took his shirt off Marvel and used it to dry his hair. He glanced at the Undead man to find him with his eyes shut. "What are you doing?"

"Nothing." A creepy grin grew on Marvel's face and Peeta scowled.

"Stop that." He hit Marvel's arm, making the man laugh. Peeta rolled his eyes and looked out at the water again. The moon's reflection was still there, burning in the pond as an undulating image. "So that can cause you to turn? The simple shine of the moon?"

"Uh-huh. Fangs and all," Marvel replied.

"Fangs?" For some reason, even though Peeta knew Marvel was Undead, he hadn't thought of the classical image of supernatural beings with fangs that suck blood out of people's necks.

Marvel smirked, baring two pointed fangs. "Yup," he said.

"But, wait, which will I have? Canines like a wolf or fangs like the Undead?" asked Peeta.

"Both, actually," said Marvel. "If you touched the moon light or let it shine on you-or turn the way I tell you-then you'd have the fangs, unearthly speed etc. However, if you turn like Cato then you'll have canines and shift into wolf form. Understand?"

For some reason, Peeta liked the sound of being a wolf more than Undead. Maybe it was because Cato was a wolf and he was finding himself wishing to be closer to him than anyone else he had met at the camp. "Cato said he would show me how to turn soon," he said. "I'm guessing it's the same with you?"

"Nah," Marvel replied. "I can show you right now if you wanted me to."

Peeta was tempted to say yes but felt like he would have been doing something wrong if he did. He wanted to talk it over with Cato, for some bizarre reason. It was easy to jump to the most desired answer but Peeta knew he should talk about it to someone sensible first. And Cato seemed to be the only person within shooting distance with a responsible bone in his body.

"It's . . . it's okay," said Peeta. "I think I'll wait."

Marvel shrugged. "Suit yourself." He clapped Peeta's back and grinned. "Let me know when you're ready."

"Uh, will do," Peeta replied wearily. He felt better now that he was clean. There was always that uplifted feeling that came with no longer being grubby and Peeta relished in it.

"I hope you choose to be shown soon," said Marvel. He sniffed the air. "It's hard being around you when you're mortal. Your blood smells gorgeous."

"And I suppose once I turn it will smell disgusting?" Peeta guessed.

"It won't smell of anything," Marvel shrugged. He stepped forward and ran a teasing finger down from the underside of Peeta's jaw to the tender piece of skin at his collar bone. The line of his juglar. "Which is such a shame, since AB negative is the rarest and most sought after blood in the camp."

Peeta laughed nervously and moved Marvel's hand away from him. "Well, I'm sure there's a blood drive you can raid somewhere with a packet of AB negative," he said. "They're always looking for rare blood types."

Marvel raised his eyebrows. "Have you ever donated?"

"I can't," Peeta said. "I have unexplainable high blood pressure which prevents me from . . ." He trailed off and frowned. "It isn't unexplainable high blood pressure, is it?"

Marvel grinned and shook his head. "Not at all," he replied. "You see, the vessels in your blood aren't actually human. You've got half wolf and half Undead vessels in your veins battling it out for dominance. Once Cato shows you how to turn into a wolf and I show you how to become Undead the vessels will fuse together and become both wolf and Undead. Because of the supernatural qualities of your blood vessels, it comes off in human standards as high blood pressure."

"Oh." Man, this was complicated. Peeta was beginning to lose track of all the things he was supposed to remember about his leadership and turning. "What will I have to do, once I become the leader?"

Marvel shrugged. "Not a lot," he said. "As I said before, we don't have any obligations in our camps. We just play around and fuck a lot. However, we do need order. Rules and control. That's where you come in. We have our laws-you wrote them for us in your first life-and anyone caught breaking such laws and brought to you for punishment."

That actually didn't sound as scary as Peeta had anticipated. Maybe being the leader of both camps wouldn't be so bad after all. Now there was only the matter of turning into one of them . . .

"Of course, then there's all your free time," Marvel said. "Which you spend with either me or Cato." The sound of Cato's name made Peeta's heart pick up. Marvel immediately noticed this, his nose twitching as he smelt something. He smirked. "Your blood is pumping faster. Has someone already chosen which one of us he prefers?"

Peeta flushed and folded his arms defiantly. "No," he lied.

"I've known you for thousands of years, Peeta. I know when you're lying," said Marvel.

Peeta continued to deny it. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"I don't blame you. Cato's a fine piece of ass. If he weren't a wolf I'd probably have gone after him by now myself," Marvel explained.

"What? You have laws about inter-racial mating?" asked Peeta. He hoped not. The idea of himself coming up with such a bigoted and discriminating law was sickening.

Thankfully, Marvel shook his head. "Nah," he said. "I'm just not into wolves. Too hairy. I mean, would it kill them to shave?"

"Cato's not hairy," Peeta said pointed out.

"True. But all I can think about is the dog that he can turn into and it turns my stomach," said Marvel. He shuddered as if recalling the whole thing.

Peeta went to a nearby tree and sat the base of the trunk. The night was warm, the air still and quiet. He wasn't tired, despite how late he knew it was. Maybe it was just the Undead in him waking up a little after being dormant for so long. "But can't I turn into a dog-I mean wolf? Why did you go after me in my past lives then?" he asked.

"You're a different story," Marvel simply answered.

"How?"

"Because you just are."

Peeta didn't like that answer but he knew a lost cause when he saw one. Marvel obviously wasn't going to answer him and there was no point in pushing then. "What do you mean that in my spare time I spend it with your or Cato? Didn't I have friends? What about Delly and Madge and Katniss? I thought they fit into this as well?"

"They do," Marvel answered. "But not in the way you think. Your friends were born as guardians to protect you. Ensuring your safety until you reached the camp when you turned eighteen. Once you are in our hands, they will drift away from you. They shall still be your guardians but they will spend less and less time with you."

Peeta couldn't imagine his friends drifting away from him. He refused to actknowledge the fact that they technically already were. None of them had stayed in the cabin the previous night and he hadn't seen them throughout the day because of his adversion to people for the day. He hadn't realized it, but his friends were already slipping through his fingers.

Marvel pouted and got onto his knees in front of Peeta. "Don't look so sad, baby, it'll be alright."

"Why do you call me that?"

"What? Baby?"

"Yeah. That's the second time you've called me it."

Marvel leaned in close, forcing Peeta's back against the tree trunk when he tried to lean away. The Undead man opened his mouth and curled his top lip back, revealing his sharp as knives fangs. Peeta was sure that Marvel hadn't liked being questioned and was going to eat him for his ignorance. His heart pounded in his chest, causing the sound to beat in his ears like drums.

His suspicions were almost confirmed when Marvel swooped down and took a sensual lick of his prey's vulnerable neck. Peeta was frozen in fear, unsure about what he had done wrong or how much longer he had left to live because of it. "I call you it because you're my bébé and no matter how many times you choose Cato over me, you always will be just that." Marvel made Peeta jump when he gently nicked his collarbone with his fangs and sucked at the blood that leaked from the cut. Peeta fearfully shut his eyes, sure that this was the end.

Marvel sighed in content. "My bébé," he mumbled.

"Don't you have a clan to be looking after?"

Peeta looked over Marvel's shoulder with wide, fearful eyes. A girl stood a couple of metres away, hands on her hips in an authorative pose. The moonligth made her pale skin glow, intercepted by smatterings of brown freckles on her shoulders and face. From what Peeta could see, she was completely naked.

Marvel turned around with a growl. "Don't you have an ass to be kissing?" he threw back.

Peeta took the opportunity and scrambled away from the Undead man, feeling safer on the side of the girl he barely knew. He knew why, she was obviously from the wolf pack. Cato's pack. As soon as he stopped beside her, she sniffed the air. She turned around to face him and ran her finger across the smudge of blood that was now smeared on his chest. She sucked on it and grinned. "Cato's going to murder you," she stated, turning back to Marvel.

"No, he won't," Marvel replied, getting to his feet with an easy smile. "He never does."

"You've done this before and you've faced the consequences of his wrath," the girl said. "Won't you ever learn?" A gentle wind bristled by, unsettling the girl's hair so that her breasts were exposed. She didn't even flinch, like it hardly matter. Peeta did the polite thing and directed his eyes to the sky.

"It wasn't like I was molesting him or anything," Marvel muttered, brushing pine needles off his arms.

"Sucking blood is your kind's form of molesting," the girl spat back. "What if you lost control? What if you drained him? I've seen that sort of thing happen before, you know. One minute it's 'just one taste', the next we're cleaning up bodies that are nothing but shirvelled remains."

Marvel rolled his eyes. "And you really think I would have done that to Peeta?" he demanded. Peeta met the vampire's eyes, the black abyss' showing no emotion other than sick desire.

"No," the girl said. "But I do think you would have done it to spite Cato."

"Oh boo-hoo," Marvel replied, putting on the voice of a child. "Cato's a big boy, he'll get over it."

"Just shut up and get out of here," the girl snapped. "Be your perverted self somewhere else. I'm sure Glimmer is back in your tent, covering herself in body oils in wait of your return."

"Glimmer's always in wait of my return." Peeta was surprised when Marvel actually did what he was told, having to walk past them to go in the right direction. When the Undead man was right beside him, he leaned down and murmured in his ear, "Although she's not the one I'd love to have in my tent covered in body oil."

"Piss off already, will ya?!" The girl snapped as Peeta flushed in embarrassment. Even though his shirt was soaking wet, after everything that had just happened, he felt too vulnerable and exposed with it off. He quickly pulled it on again and turned to address the girl.

"Thank you so much," he said. "I don't know what I would have done if you hadn't have showed up."

"It's what I'm here for," the girl replied. Up close, Peeta could see that her eyes were hazel with green flecks in them. "You are our future leader, after all. You wouldn't be much use to us as a shrivelled, sucked dry shell."

_You can say that again._ "Sorry if this is upfront but do I know you?" asked Peeta.

The girl pulled a face. "Yes and no," she answered. "Yes for the past and no for this life." She beamed, baring a gorgeous set of pearl white teeth, and thrust her hand out. "Clove Jettison."

"Peeta Mellark," Peeta replied, shaking her hand. Clove's name rung a bell, somehow, but he couldn't figure out how.

"I'm Cato's right hand man," Clove explained, as if able to read his mind. "I do everything for him in his absence. Including keeping an eye on you. I can't apologize enough for Marvel's behaviour. He's Undead. All they think about is sex and feeding and more sex. He's just jealous of the fact that you've always been petted on Cato, no matter how many times he tries to woo you."

They started walking back to the pack's campground. Peeta couldn't help feeling a little uncomfortable with Clove's nudity but the fact that she didn't seem to see the problem with it made him feel ridiculous. Forcing himself to wise up, he said, "I thought Undead only coupled for sex, not love. Why would Marvel be so desperate to woo one person?"

Clove shrugged. "Beats me. But from what I could see from your previous relationships with him, it was purely physical anyway."

"But you said I was petted on Cato," Peeta pointed out. Twigs snapped under the soles of his sneakers and he wondered how the sharp ends weren't hurting Clove's bare feet. Maybe it was just years of experience hardening her nerve endings . . .

"You were, and probably still are," Clove said. "When something went wrong in your relationship with Marvel, you'd go to Cato. When the weight of what was expected of you freaked you out, you went to Cato. When you got good news, you went to Cato. Bad news, you'd go to Cato. Marvel's just been poisoned with the green monster bug for thousands of years now. On some level, I don't blame him. He's stuck with Glimmer as a fuck buddy for the inbetween years when you're not here. That's enough to drive anyone insane."

"Glimmer . . . that's not a very vampire name," Peeta mused.

Clove laughed. "A name's a name. We can't all be Draculas. Did you think 'Clove' wasn't a very wolfy name?"

"Well, no, but-"

"It's the same principal but . . ." Clove trailed off and frowned. "You haven't looked at me once since we started walking."

"Haven't I?" asked Peeta.

"I know you're gay and all that but I'm not that repulsive looking, am I?" Clove asked.

"No, you're not repulsive," Peeta quickly said. "I'm being respectful. Truth is . . . I've never seen a girl naked before. Or a guy, really, for that matter."

Clove snickered. "I see," she said. "Well, a girl form is basically just like a guy's only with cushiony tits and no dick." Her blunt way of speaking threw Peeta off guard and his shocked expression made her laugh. "It's fine, don't look at me if you're not comfortable with it."

"Thank you," Peeta said, relieved. A thought suddenly came to mind. "Clove, as his assistant, do _you_ know what Cato is to me?"

Clove tsked. "Sorry, I can't tell you. It's up to Cato," she said.

_Damn it._

"As Cato said anything about turning?" asked Clove.

"Only that he was going to show me soon," Peeta replied.

"Ah, I see," Clove said. They were nearing the camp. Peeta could hear the low hum of chatter from the other wolves. The tiki lamps were lit in the distance, making it easier to navigate through the forest.

"How does it work, the whole turning thing?" asked Peeta. "Cato mentioned it but he didn't describe how it worked. He said it was something to do with being buried in my subconscious?" For some reason, he could trust Clove, even though they had just met. She didn't shy away from telling him the truth which, at a time like this one, was something he really needed.

"Yeah, he will help you find it again," said Clove. "It takes a lot of one-on-one work but I'm sure you won't mind that now, will you?" She winked knowingly. "As for the Undead turning, it's a lot more ritual. I've never seen it myself but it always goes well enough so Marvel must know what he's doing."

As they reached the edge of the wolf camp, Clove stopped. Peeta sensed that she wanted him to stop as well so he did. "Is something wrong?" he asked.

Clove shook her head, brushing her hair back from her face and sighing. "I just want to warn you, Peeta. Don't go out again on the night of a full moon, it can be very dangerous, especially when you're in such a vulnerable position. If you had have already been turned and exposed yourself to it, you would have turned into this wild, untamable creature. You'd probably end up getting killed because of it and the cycle would begin all over again."

Peeta felt thankful that Marvel had showed up when he had, or else he probably would have swam right out and let the moonlight touch him without worry. Then there would have been a new record for the shortest time he had lasted before he died. If only Marvel had known when to stop.

Clove grinned and punched his arm playfully. "I like this version of you. You listen to me."

"Why? Hadn't I done that before?" Peeta asked.

"Yeah, it's just been a while," Clove replied. She wrapped an arm around his neck, having to push up on her tiptoes to reach his head-level, and laughed. "You and I will get along just fine."

Peeta found himself smiling as he and Clove walked back into the camp, the she-wolf chattering away about daily life in the camp and other casual pleasentries. Had he somehow made his first friend from the camp? The thought made his smile just a little bit wider. Maybe he wouldn't be as lonely as he had first thought, maybe things would be alright after all.

**A/N: Man, I just realized how I can't seem to write Marvel as a good guy. In nearly all my stories he's been a dickhead. I don't really do it purposely, it just sort of happens.**

**Please R&R! (:**


	9. Bringer of Death

**A/N: I want to thank everyone for their wonderful, kind reviews. I know I don't reply to them and I feel horrible for it but I just want you all to know that I read every single one, take everything you tell me on board and appreciate everything you say. So thank you so much, I love you guys! You're all so kind and make me eager to write more for you!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Hunger Games.**

**Chapter Nine: Bringer of Death**

Cato came to his cabin that night.

Peeta hadn't been sleeping anyway, his mind had been too busy to even think about slepeing, and he had just been lying in bed. Sleep was beginning to seem like a wasteful practice anyway, since there was so much more he could have been doing if his body didn't tire so easily.

The reality of the situation had started to dawn on him. Katniss, Madge, and Delly weren't staying in the cabin again. It was like they were setting their roots, preparing for the future already. They'd all became their own, found their own friends, boyfriends-in Delly's case conquests-and had all but moved out. It made Peeta feel a little behind, since he hadn't made as much progress as them. Well, at least he had found a friend in Clove.

Anyway, he was lying in bed when Cato came in. Well, 'came' in, more like 'barged' in. It had surprised him, since everything had been so quiet and tranquil before he barged into the cabin. The door had almost flew off its hinges, the old groan that usually accompanined it opening casually morphed into a racous screech. Peeta bolted into a sitting position, scrambling backwards against the headboard of the bed as the fear of a threat startled him into alertness.

Cato didn't say a word. His presence relaxed Peeta a little, knowing that Cato wasn't a threat to him. The urgency in the older man's actions however unnerved him and he got the sudden feeling that something was wrong. Cato went straight to his bedside, his eyes alight with determination and anger. Peeta watched every move he made, too scared to speak out of fear of saying something wrong.

Despite his urgency, when he reached Peeta's bedside, Cato slowed down a little and pulled the younger boy closer to him. At first, Peeta thought that he was going to kiss him-the small moment a spark of fear and excitement and joy-when the older wolf instead grabbed the collar of his t-shirt and pulled it down a little to look at the two small fang nicks. A small flare of disappointment filled Peeta but he tried not to let it show.

Cato cursed. "I'm going to kill that son of a bitch."

"It's just a nick," Peeta replied. He touched the bite marks with his fingertips, shivering at the thought of Marvel biting him again. "It didn't hurt." This was a lie but he didn't want to admit to himself that a creep like Marvel had him afraid.

"I'm going to kill him," Cato repeated.

"Why?" asked Peeta. "It's fine. It's not like he tried to kill me."

"He knows that there's the possibility that he couldn't control himself. That he'd drink you dry but he did it anyway," Cato growled. Peeta couldn't find the right words to comfort him. To let him know that he was alright and that he really didn't care all that much about the fact that Marvel had drank some of his blood. Okay, so in the moment it had been terrifying but afterward, when he looked back on it, it didn't seem that bad.

"But he wouldn't. It wouldn't make sense. Why would he kill me if I'm supposed to be the leader or whatever?" asked Peeta. He was trying to calm Cato down, scared of what he was capable of when he was angry.

Cato shook his head. He traced the two circles on Peeta's collarbone where Marvel's teeth had been possessively, in a way that both thrilled and terrified the younger boy. "Part of the Undead turning ritual is to drink you of your mortal blood. It's why I always have to show you how to turn into a wolf first because the Undead turning has a lot more maintenance to it. If Marvel had lost control, he wouldn't have killed you. He would have just forced the start of the Undead ritual without having let me show you how to shift into a wolf first. And if he does that then you'd be his forever. He's a pyscho that way."

"Not really forever," Peeta said, trying to make light of the situation, "Until I died next."

Cato looked at him seriously, green eyes emerald torches in the darkness of the cabin. "Not this time," he said. "This time is different, I can feel it in my bones. All these changes, they can't be concidental. Death mightn't find you this time. I think Marvel knows this too and that's why he's acting the way he is." Cato slid off the edge of the bed and sat on the floor beside it, his back leaning against the bed frame. Having burst in so quickly and suddenly to check on Peeta must have taken it out of him.

Peeta shifted so he sat on the edge, propping his feet up on the wooden frame. "I thought that was just how he was normally?" he asked.

Cato chuckled. "No, although he is a creep all the time," he answered. "In the past, he's always waited for you to come to him and if you didn't want him, he'd back off. I think he forced himself on you this time because he knows that things are different. That there's a chance you won't die."

"I wouldn't say he _forced_ himself on me," Peeta said sheepishly.

"Peeta, Marvel could have stripped you naked and violated you in the worst of ways and you'd still say he didn't force himself on you," answered Cato. He wasn't being horrible or spiteful, he was just stating a fact. Somehow, Peeta knew he was telling the truth. Cato lifted his head to look at the window on the wall straight ahead of them. A frown etched onto his face. "Don't you sleep with the window open?"

Forgetting the realization that there was no reason for Cato to know that he slept with the window open, Peeta answered, "Yeah, why?"

"Then why's it closed?"

Peeta looked at the window, noticing for the first time that it was closed. "I didn't . . ."

"Okay, that's it, I don't care that you're not turned yet, you're coming to my-well, really, _your_-cabin. You're not safe here on your own. It's always the hardest when your guardians begin to drift away." Cato stood up and grabbed Peeta's hand, pulling him out of the bed with surprising strength. There was no room for arguing.

Peeta felt a little exposed and defenceless as-since he only had the clothes he was dragged into the forest wearing-he slept in his boxers and undershirt. Cato was a gentleman and didn't look anywhere he wasn't supposed to. He simply enclosed Peeta's small wrist in his hand and guided him out of the empty cabin.

There were many wolves still up and about. Some eating, others chatting, Peeta could have sworn he saw the back of Delly's head as she made out with a red head. He got a couple of lustful stares as he passed through with Cato but no one commented, probably out of fear of what Cato would do to them if they did.

Cato took him to the Power Cabin-as Peeta liked to call it-where he had met Marvel for the first time. Cato pointed at the regal bed at the top. "You can sleep there, if you like," he said. "I think I'll be able to sleep much better knowing that you're safe here with me anyway."

"You think so?" Peeta asked. He trailed his hand along the top of the regal bed. The covers were made of a soft, silky material. The knowledge that he would be sharing a cabin with Cato comforted him as he knew Cato would look after him. And it certainly beat sleeping alone.

"I know so."

Peeta could feel Cato's eyes burning into the back of his head, a shiver lazily drifting down his body as if the wolf's gaze was drifting as well. He shook his head to dismiss the idea and sat uneasily on the edge of the bed. "So I'll be safer here?" he asked.

Cato nodded. "Most definitely. No one would dare intrude on the Leader's Cabin, even Marvel isn't stupid enough to do it."

"Is there a punishment for it or something?" Peeta's mind cast back to what Marvel had said about him writing the laws when he first came into power. Did that mean the punishments that came with breaking those laws as well?

"No, not really," said Cato. "But they know that I'm a light sleeper and will react to any and all signs of danger."

Peeta wished he could say the same about himself but everyone who knew him knew he slept like a log. The cabin could be on fire and he probably wouldn't wake up. It was a curse, really. Especially now, when the flashbacks were getting increasingly vivid every night. He couldn't escape them, no matter how hard he tried to find a way out.

"Where were you today?" Peeta asked. If Clove was Cato's right hand man and did his work for him when he wasn't around, then where was Cato earlier? When he had burst into the cabin it seemed to be his initial reaction to finding out that Marvel had bitten Peeta, which had happened hours before.

"As I said, I go into town occasionally to make sure we're not under suspicion," said Cato. "Today was just one of those days."

"Oh." Well, that made sense.

"Clove said that she found you with Marvel by the pond," Cato said. "What were you doing there?"

Peeta shrugged. "I was feeling a little dirty so I washed up in the pond," he said, before adding, "I steered clear of the moon's reflection."

Cato nodded, obviously relieved that he hadn't gone near the moon while in the water. "You only have one set of clothes, we're going to have to sort that out," he mused.

"I could do with some swim trunks, so that I don't have to encounter Marvel again without any clothes on," Peeta joked.

Cato looked at him sharply. "He went to you when you weren't wearing clothes?" he asked seriously.

"He didn't see anything," Peeta quickly said.

"Right," said Cato. He looked at the floor and bunched his eyebrows together. "Good."

Peeta looked at his feet, finding it difficult not to feel flustered in Cato's presence. He didn't want to say something stupid, so he didn't seem like an idiot to the older man, but he couldn't find something decent to say. "So . . . how come the beds in the other cabin are less, uh, extravagent?"

"Most of the times the wolves rough it outside," Cato explained. "That's why there's really only this cabin and then the one you were staying in before. There's a few other ones built for anyone who doesn't want to stay outside overnight for whatever reason but the only one that any effort has really been put into is this one. Because it's yours, of course."

"That makes sense, I suppose." Peeta glanced at Cato and saw that he was smiling at him. The sight was welcome. It warmed Peeta's heart and he smiled back without really thinking about it.

"You should get some sleep," said Cato. "Even if it's only a little bit, it's better than none at all."

Peeta nodded, knowing that Cato was right. He was going to be no use walking around like a zombie. But sleep had seemed so useless lately. There were so many things to be done, figured out, deciphered . . . Why waste time sleeping? Peeta had never been much of a coffee drinker but now he wished he had it more than he ever had because it would help him stay awake.

"I know it's probably the last thing you want to do right now . . ." Cato trailed off. "But even werewolves need sleep. It's probably the Undead part of you that wants to stay awake. Which, I suppose, I don't have the right to control."

"No, I'll try to get some sleep," Peeta said. He didn't like the idea of sleeping all day and being awake at night. He didn't want to be like Marvel, as horrible as it sounded.

Just as predicted, the regal bed was much more comfortable than the one in the other cabin. Peeta felt like he had laid down on a giant marshmallow. It had to be the most comfy bed he had ever slept in. The mattress and covers smelled like pine needles and fresh cut grass. It felt as if this was Peeta's real bed, that he had only been away for a few months and was back home now.

The fact that Cato was there as well was the most comforting factor of all.

"I'm going to teach you self defense tomorrow," Cato said once everything had settled and gone quiet again. "You need to be able to defend yourself in the case of an attack. Especially if Marvel tries to bite you again."

"I doubt he will," Peeta replied. Marvel wasn't an idiot, he wouldn't try to do something risky again.

Right?

"Still, it would give me a peace of mind to know that you can defend yourself properly," said Cato. The distance from Peeta's bed to Cato's was, in reality, a couple of metres but it felt like miles. "Even though things are changing, Death can still find you in the most creative of ways."

Peeta stared at the ceiling, tracing the lines of the wooden panels with his eyes. "Have I ever died in a really stupid way? Like I tripped over a twig and broke my neck?" Why he wanted to know this, he didn't know, but curiosity was eating him up on the inside.

"It's never stupid," Cato replied. "Death can be very . . . theatrical. Your death is never a small thing." He didn't say anything else. Peeta didn't push the topic. He didn't think about it before but maybe talking about death wasn't at the top of the 'things Cato wanted to talk about' list.

As Peeta continued to stare at the ceiling, a weird thought came to mind. Cato constantly referred to Death in third narrative, as if it were an actual person. Peeta tried to dismiss the thought because it was odd, to say the least, but once he had realized it he couldn't shift it from his head. Why was that?

Forcing the idea from his mind, Peeta turned onto his side and forced himself to get some sleep.

_Death was coming._

_Peeta could feel it coming. It was like how some people could smell the rain before it arrived. He didn't need to be confronted by death to know it was on its way. He could feel that death was coming for him. He wasn't scared. Not at all. From what he had been told, he was more than prepared for it._

_Cato wasn't in the cabin. Peeta didn't know where he was-he must have disappeared while he had been sleeping. Peeta sat at the end of his bed, watching the front door with a pointed gaze. He knew Death was coming. It was coming for him but it was okay because he was ready._

_He closed his eyes and focused hard. He searched his subconscious like Cato taught him to. It would be much more convient to turn Undead but he didn't have time for that. It was getting easier and easier to turn wolf and within seconds of beginning the shift, Peeta opened his eyes again half turned. _

_It was lucky too, as a moment later the door swung open to reveal a silohuette in the doorway. Immediately Peeta knew what it was. It was Death. He didn't need to look at the guy twice to know that he was evil. Anything evil was a threat and threats had to be eliminated. It was his job as leader to do this._

_Death was faster than him. Peeta tried to react quicker than them, pouncing off the bed and lurching towards the intruder, claws brandished like knives. Death, however, predicted this and grabbed him by the throat, using the hold on him to slam him down against the floor._

_Peeta screamed and lashed out. He stared into the eyes of his attacker. They were green. Bright green. But not like Cato's. These were darkened and dripping of evil. "My, my, my Peeta, here we are again." The voice was male. Deep, ruggard, teasing. "Aren't you cute, all wolfed out. How sweet."_

_"Let go of me!" Peeta shouted. He tried to scratch the man but he saw it coming and pinned his wrist down with his foot. "What do you want from me?!"_

_"What I always want," the man replied. "To end your life."_

_"But why?" Peeta's feet slid uselessly against the floor he tried to unseat the man ontop of him. It was no use, since he was twice his weight in muscle alone. "Leave me alone!"_

_The man laughed and grabbed Peeta's face, his thumbs digging painfully into his cheeks. "You know why," he chuckled. "We can't have someone like you wandering around. You're not natural."_

_Feeling completely helpless, Peeta knew what was coming. He didn't want to face it but he knew it was coming. He was no longer brave, every ounce of strength he had felt before leaving him all at once. "Don't kill me. Please. I'm not ready for it," he begged. "I don't want to die, not yet. Please."_

_"Ah, well isn't that cute." Death produced a blade, the sight capturing Peeta's attention and causing panic to seize hold of him. "It's nice that you remembered that I like it when you beg."_

_"Please," Peeta whispered, frightened tears curling in his eyes and slipping down his cheeks. His heart was beating so fast he felt sick, his body crippled with dread. "At least let me say goodbye to Cato."_

_There was a pause, as if Death was considering it. His eyes glittered with childlish glee, knowing full-well that Peeta's life was in his hands and he was going to crumple it in his fist. "You know, I would, but I don't much care for your lover," he finally said. Peeta's heart sank and he shut his eyes in dismay. "So I think I'll just get on with it now."_

_Death didn't waste any more time. He swung the blade up so he held it above his head, positioned it, then lunged back down, so it dug right into Peeta's chest. Right into his heart._

_The pain was indescribeable. Peeta couldn't even scream. He tried, but the words caught in his throat. The blood seeped out of his chest and coated his skin, dripping onto the floor around him. Some even came up his throat and when he coughed in a feeble attempt to elevate the pain, it burst out and splattered Death's face. A single drop dripped off his killer's eyelash and fell back onto Peeta's face, a thick, red glob onto his cheek._

_"See you in eighteen years," Death drawled. _

_Everything went dark._

For the first time since the nightmares began, Peeta didn't wake up in alarm. His eyes fluttered open, as if he had woken up with from a pleasant dream. The nightmare flashback may have been disturbing but it answered a question. Death wasn't an idea. Cato hadn't been referring to it as the idea of dying itself. He was referring to the person. Death was a being. Maybe not a human being but a being all the same.

So it wasn't fate that always killed Peeta, it was an actual person.

~xXx~

"His name is Finnick Odair."

Peeta stared at Clove as she crushed together some berries and dandelions. It was a beautiful day, the sun shining so brightly you couldn't look up without squinting. Cato had left the cabin before Peeta had even woken up and he worried that he was going to find Marvel and do something he'd regret. Clove had found him and said that if anyone could look after themselves, it was Cato, and told Peeta not to worry.

"Finnick Odair?" Peeta asked slowly. The name was like every other he had heard so far. Rung a bell but he couldn't place it.

Clove nodded. "I don't blame you for thinking that the Death that Cato has spoken about was the inanimate idea of Death because that's what everyone would first think. No, Death _is_ a person. His name, as I said, is Finnick Odair," she explained. "The term 'Odair' in the old language of the pack means death and 'Finnick' means 'bringer of'."

"Bringer of Death," Peeta said.

"Exactly." Clove replied. She handed him a leave with the berry and dandelion mix on it. When he had been given some of it the second day in camp, Peeta had turned his nose up (not in the snotty way, it was just an involuntary reaction when he saw the mushy substance) but discovered it was actually quite satsifactory in both taste and terms of appetite.

"But what's he got against me?" asked Peeta.

"We don't know, he's never elaborated on it," Clove answered. "We don't know where to even start coming up with theories."

Peeta threw a piece of the dandelion mix into his mouth and swallowed it. The sweet tang of the berries mixed beautifully with the earthy taste from the weed. "He told me something, in the dream I had last night," he said.

Clove shovelled half of her mix into her mouth and swallowed whole. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. "What did he say?" she asked.

"We can't have someone like you wandering around here," Peeta recited. "He said I'm not natural. What does he mean 'we'?"

Clove thoughtfully chewed on a dandelion leaf. "I don't know," she admitted. "Death has always worked on his own, we've never seen him with anyone else." Peeta wanted to ask why she continued to call Finnick Death. He knew his new name now so she didn't have to called him Death all the time. As if she were able to tell by his expression what he was thinking, Clove explained herself, "We don't call him Finnick for your own sake and I've just accustomed to calling him Death. Because that's what he is, Death."

"Like proper grim reaper, black coat, tall scythe sort of thing?" Peeta asked.

Clove laughed. "No. He's actually really hot," she said. "You know, because he's a fucker like that." Peeta hadn't expected that. Wasn't death supposed to be ugly? Full of sorrow and agony? So why was the bringer of death a stud? It didn't make sense. "He gets to choose his forms, you see. So he chooses the most attractive form he can. To entice victims into a false sense of security before he attacks."

"Like an incubus?" Peeta asked. "Or a siren?"

"I suppose that's a way of putting it," Clove answered. She spat a thorn out onto the ground. "He has been known for being a bit of a perv. I think it's because he can have whoever he wants when he wants. He's like the Undead in that way. It doesn't matter who it is or why he wants them, it's more out of the joy of having a fuck. I think he does that to his victims before he kills them sometimes."

Peeta suddenly felt sick, just like he had in his dream. "Has he . . . has he ever done that to me?" he asked.

Clove shrugged. "Hell if I know. I'd say he has, because he loves to wind Cato up. Again, like the Undead. Marvel would use you as a ploy to dance all over Cato's last nerves."

"Me?" Peeta was surprised. He knew it was silly, as he had seen first hand how Marvel used him to wind Cato up. That much was obvious through how Cato had burst into his cabin the previous night, worried about him over the bites Marvel had given him.

Clove smiled. Not in the wolfish way she usually would. It was genuine. Her hazel eyes had a sparkle to them as she said, "Yes, you. You're one of the very few things Cato cares about."

Peeta didn't know how to respond to that. Sure, he knew Cato cared about him, that much was obvious through how he acted around him, but he hadn't thought that there were very _few_ things he cared about. It made Peeta all the more eager to figure out what Cato was to him. _Why_ did he care so much?

"Did you tell Cato about what Marvel had done?" The question had been something Peeta had mulled over the whole morning. Clove was the only one who knew about what Marvel had done to him so she was the only person who could have told Cato. Because Marvel certainly hadn't.

"It's my job to report everything to Cato," Clove shrugged. "I was just doing what I'm supposed to."

"What if he hurts Marvel?" Peeta remembered how determined Cato had seemed the previous night to do serious damage to the Undead man.

"He can't," said Clove. "It would break the truce between the werewolves and Undead."

"I thought you said both groups got along," Peeta said.

"Oh, we do. _Because_ of the truce," Clove replied. "When you're growing up or just after you die, the camps are at their weakest. Fights easily break out and laws are broken. We need the truce to keep things in order. But if the truce is broken, I'd say all hell would break lose. Besides, how do you kill an Undead man? He's already dead."

"A stake through the heart?" Peeta suggested weakly.

This made Clove laugh. "Yes, I suppose that's one way," she chuckled. "You could also expose them to sunlight. But Cato's not an idiot. He's many things but he is not stupid. He wouldn't risk the security of both camps over two nicks on your collarbone that are already healing up."

True to what she said, the bite on Peeta's collarbone was already healing and he guessed by tomorrow it wouldn't even be visible to the naked eye. Just like the ones Katniss had seen that first night . . .

Clove stood up suddenly, her hair a black curtain as she spun around. Peeta felt the hairs on the back of his neck and arms stand up and, when he peered past Clove, he saw Cato aproaching them. His jaw was clenched so tight Peeta could swear the vein on his forehead was going to burst and the knuckles of his right hand were covered in blood. "Clove," Cato said, giving his assistant a nod.

"Cato," Clove replied, sitting down again. "Been fighting?"

"Just putting a jerk back in place," Cato muttered.

He examined the blood on his knuckles before giving it a wipe. Peeta's eyes zoned in on the red liquid and he felt a stirring in his gut, an urge to lurch forward to lick it all off. To maybe bite Cato's wrist and get more of it out as well. He swallowed the desire quickly and pushed it away before he lost control.

Cato looked at Peeta, as if able to read his thoughts. Peeta shrank back a little, worried that he actually could predict what he was thinking. "You ready?" he asked.

"Huh? What for?" Peeta asked.

"Remember what I told you last night? I want to teach you self defense."

Clove snickered. "Hopefully not how you do it. Your version of self denfense is picking fights," she said.

Cato rolled his eyes before fixing his gaze back on Peeta. "Are you ready?" he asked again.

Peeta nodded. "Yes. I'm ready."

**A/N: I apologize for any typos, if there's any. Please R&R with your thoughts! :)**


	10. Smallest of Sparks

**A/N: 'Ello! This story and my other one called 'End of Days' are going to be the two I'm going to focus on the most until finish. If you haven't checked out 'End of Days', have look! It might not be everyone's cup of tea though which I understand. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Hunger Games. Or the idea for S.I.N.G. Virtual cookies for anyone who can guess which movie Peeta saw it from! I apologize for any typos! :)**

**Chapter Ten: Smallest of Sparks**

Peeta had expected Cato to take him deep into the forest to do the self defense lesson but was surprised when he was simply taken a little off from the camp. It wasn't that Peeta was worried about the other wolves seeing them, he just preferred to be alone with Cato. He didn't know why, he just . . . did.

"The first rule of self defense is that if you have anything in your hands-even if it's just a twig-keep it there. Don't drop it or throw it away," Cato explained as they walked. "I'd say that defusion is the next step but since we're peaceful camps, I doubt the reason someone would want to hurt you would be something that can simply be defused."

"Probably not," Peeta agreed.

They stopped. Peeta could still see Clove in the distance, munching on the remainder of the dandelion mush she had put together. What if he made a stupid mistake and everyone saw it? He was their supposed 'leader'. It wouldn't make a good impression for them to see their future leader tripping over his shoelaces and fumbling like a bafoon.

Cato turned Peeta by his shoulders so they were facing each other. "First thing you do," he said. "If someone gets too close for comfort, if you feel that they're going to attack you or you simply feel like your personal space is being invaded and you don't like it, push them back and shout, 'back off'. This makes them aware that you're not an easy target and can also alert others that something's up."

Peeta nodded. Well, that seemed easy enough.

"Before an attacker has full control of you, before you're completely at their mercy, you must do as much as you can to inflict injury and get away," Cato continued. "I know it can be scary once in a confrontation with someone but you have to keep a cool head and remember everything I tell you, okay?"

Peeta nodded again.

Cato shook his head. "I need to you tell me you understand," he said.

"Okay. I understand," Peeta replied. He wondered why it mattered whether he said it or not but didn't voice his wonder. Cato knew what he was doing.

"There are seven places you can go for," Cato said. He waved a hand over his face. "Eyes, nose, ears." His hand moved down to his throat. "Neck." He patted his knee. "Knees and legs."

Peeta committed the seven places to memory. Eyes, nose, ears, neck, knees and legs. Eyes, nose, ears, neck, knees and legs. Eyes, nose, ears, neck, knees, legs. He would probably come up with some sort of rythme to remember later on. It was how he used to memorize things when he was revising for exams in school and would probably work well enough for the seven points of attack.

"For the eyes, common gouging and scratching will temporaily blind your attacker so you can escape," Cato explained. "And if you've been taught to turn then your claws will help with that." Peeta winced at the thought of gouging someone's eyes out with sharp claws.

"As for the nose, use this if the attacker is close up in front of you. Use the heel of your hand to strike up through the nose." Cato took Peeta's hand and showed him how to do it, showing him how to bend his hand so the heel pointed out and how to thrust it up. "But if the attacker is behind you-" Cato touched Peeta's elbow and guided it upwards-"simply strike with your elbow."

Having Cato touching him like this, even though it was just his hands and arms, made Peeta feel extremely flustered and embarrassed. It was ridiculous but he couldn't help it. He had to force himself from getting distracted by the wolf's charm and obvious good looks. He had to focus on this or he was vulnerable to attack.

"You can also press your fingers tightly together and bend your thumb at an angle to strike at the side of the neck." Cato demonstrated, miming doing it to Peeta. "Or, again, just do it with your elbow. Knees are most obvious as they are vulnerable from every angle. Kicking the side of the knee will cause inbalance and injury and is the best angle to attack from."

"Right. Got it," Peeta said.

Cato nodded. It was obvious that he was really serious about this self defense thing. Well, he had said it would give him a peace of mind if Peeta knew how to protect himself. "As for if the attacker has a hold of you, for example, your wrist." Cato wrapped his fingers around Peeta's wrist and squeezed tight. "Squat down and push forward before thrusting upwards and your attacker is forced to let go." He nodded his head for Peeta to give it ago.

Ignoring the fact that his heart was beating faster simply because Cato was holding onto his wrist, Peeta did what Cato told him too. He didn't think it would work, since Cato was so much stronger and larger than him, but was shocked when it actually did. The technique Cato described forced him to let go of his wrist. "Whoa," he breathed. "It worked."

Cato chuckled. "Of course it did," he grinned. Peeta let his guard down for a moment and grinned back. Cato took the moment and grabbed his wrist again, using the hold to pull him into a hold which could have been mistaken for a bear hug from behind. Peeta yelped, his heart rate quickening at how his back was pressed right up against Cato's front.

"What are you doing?!" he exclaimed breathlessly.

"If someone gets a hold of you from behind, drop your weight and try to hit their head with your elbows or stomp their feet with your own," Cato explained in a measured, professional tone. Peeta found it a little difficult to concentrate, Cato's breath brushing the back of his neck distracting him greatly, but he managed to listen enough to get the jist of what he said. "If that doesn't work, pull their fingers backwards until they're forced to let go and rotate out of the hold. After that attack with your knees and kick them."

"Okay, got it," Peeta nodded. There was a long pause afterward, where everything was silent and all he could focus on was how close Cato and his bodies were. His blood heated up in his veins, burning its way through his system like an inferno.

Things were about to get worse.

Cato swiped his leg underneath Peeta's, causing him to lose his balance and fall. Peeta yelped, the impact of his back against the ground knocking the breath from his lungs. Cato climbed ontop of him, pinning his hips to the ground with his own. Peeta's eyes widened in horror, staring at the man ontop of him in shock and surprise. "Are you crazy?!" he yelled.

"If you're pinned to the ground," Cato said, keep up his professional facade, "hook their wrist with one hand and use your other hand to grab their elbow. This will pin their hand against your chest. Use your foot to hook around theirs, lift your hips and turn over onto your knees so that you are then ontop." He raised his eyebrows. "Give it a go."

Peeta swallowed the lump in his throat and nodded. He grabbed Cato's wrist and elbow, hooked his foot around his, lifted his hips up and turned onto his knees. The fact that it, again, worked took him by surprise and he yelped when they tumbled over and he was suddenly ontop.

He stared at Cato with wide eyes. The older boy was grinning, clearly amused with is confusion. "But you're so much bigger than me," Peeta blurted out.

"I know. Weird, isn't it?" Cato replied.

Peeta continued to stare. He had a sudden urge to lurch forward and kiss Cato. It was a weird feeling and he didn't know what triggered it, exactly. Was it the fact that he felt enpowered sitting ontop of the man? Or was it the tiny piece of vulnerability he felt at the knowledge that Cato could do a simple manuover and he'd be underneath him again?

So he didn't embarrass himself, Peeta slipped off of Cato and sat beside him. Cato propped himself up on his elbows and watched him carefully. Something suddenly came to mind, something he'd learned on his seventeeth birthday when he was having the movie night with the girls. "What about SING?" he asked.

Cato frowned. "SING?" he replied.

Peeta nodded. "Yeah, SING."

"What the heck is SING?"

Peeta felt amused. The childish jitter that comes when you find that you know something the adults don't. "I'll show you. Stand up." Curious as to what Peeta was talking about, Cato stood up with him. Peeta turned around. "Come at me from behind." He hadn't done this before but he was too giddy about it to dwell too much on that.

Cato didn't question him. He came at Peeta from behind, wrapping his arm around his neck. Peeta almost lost his line of thought, overwhelmed by the adrenalin that surged through his body at being so close to Cato again. He shook it off and jabbed his elbow underneath Cato's ribs, forgetting completely that he wasn't supposed to actually _hit _him. Not realizing until afterward, he stepped on Cato's foot, jabbed his elbow upward so it hit his nose and back down again into his groin.

"SING," he said, not turning around. "It stands for solar plexus, instep, nose and groin."

"Great," Cato croaked.

Peeta turned around in confusion, his eyes widening in horror when he saw the older boy on his knees on the ground. "Oh shit, I'm sorry!" he exclaimed. "Are you alright?!"

"Just fine," Cato replied, tipping his head back and holding his hand below his nose.

Peeta winced. "Sorry, I didn't mean to hurt you, I learned it on t.v," he said in a rush. "I didn't really think it would actually _work_."

"It's a good technique," Cato said. "Just maybe ease up when you're demonstrating next time, okay?"

"You got it," Peeta quickly said. He helped Cato stand up and smiled. "At least I know how to look after myself now."

Cato laughed and wiped the back of his forehead with his hand. "Good thing, too. Who knows when Marvel might try to pull a fast one. He may be quicker than you but sometimes simple self defense is enough to caught an Undead off guard."

"But Marvel is really old," Peeta pointed out, "surely he'll see something like that coming."

"Marvel's age brings arrogance," Cato replied. Peeta saw how the blood was spilling from his nose and felt guilty. He grabbed Cato's wrist and walked him back to camp, set on fixing what he had messed up. "He thinks because he's older than most he can get away with almost anything. That he's better than everyone, more experienced, and therefore much more smart. Such arrogance is what can bring most people's demise."

Peeta gestured at a log and Cato obediently sat down on it. "Is Marvel older than you?" he asked, searching for a leaf thick enough to gauge the blood coming from Cato's nose.

"Has no one ever told you that it's rude to ask someone their age?" Cato smirked.

"That's a woman," Peeta replied. "It's rude to ask a woman her age." He pulled a root out of the ground and examined the leaves thoughtfully. "And I'm technically pretty old as well. If you count all my reborn lives."

"If you could remember them, sure, I'd count them," said Cato. "But you can't. Only snippets of memories have surfaced in your subconscious as of late."

Peeta picked off a suitably thick leaf and crouched in front of Cato. He batted his hands away and dabbed at the blood on his nose. "Is someone a little shy about their age?" Peeta teased. Cato laughed, the action causing more blood to gush from his nose.

"Not a chance," he said.

"You said it was your . . . what was it? Forty eighth time going through all this?" asked Peeta. "So, is that it? With the eighteen year lee-way for forty eight years then you're well over one hundred. That's not too bad-"

"It was actually the forty seventh time," Cato corrected. "But forty seven isn't the right number."

"It isn't?" asked Peeta. The leaf was already covered in blood. He hoped he hadn't broken Cato's nose. How could you cure a broken nose in the forest? Was there a healer or medic?

"Forty seven is when I stopped counting," Cato explained.

Peeta frowned. He paused his dabbing and shook the leaf off a little. "How long ago did you stop?"

Cato also frowned, as if thinking it over. "I honestly can't remember," he said. "It was so long ago."

"As in a few years long ago or . . . ?"

Cato winked. "_Very_ long ago."

Peeta paused, leaf mid-shake. "Oh."

"Cato!" Clove came running towards them, her face alight with glee. "Was I seeing things or did I just see your ass get kicked by Peeta? An unexperienced fighter who is still trying to get his bearings against you, an old timer who has been fighting his whole life?"

"Don't start Clove," Cato replied.

Clove cackled, slapping her knee in delight. "Oh wow, this is rich!" she chuckled. She straightened up and playfully punched Peeta's arm. "Well done, Peeta. Good job. This is . . . oh god, I can't breathe."

"You finished yet?" asked Cato.

Clove leaned in close to her boss' face and squinted. "Is your nose _broken_?"

"I didn't mean to break it," Peeta quickly said.

"Don't act as if it's a bad thing," Clove laughed. "Broken noses are easily solved." She rubbed her hands together and grinned at Cato. "Ready?"

Cato cracked his neck and nodded. Peeta stood back but watched avid interest as Clove enclosed Cato's nose between her thumb and knuckle. Without so much as a warning, she jerked his nose violently to the left, right, up and down. Cato gritted his teeth and barely made a sound but Peeta could tell from the sound of the bones crunching how painful it was.

"There, good as new," Clove replied, dusting her hands off. "How's it feel?"

"Swollen," Cato replied. He touched his nose tentatively as if to check for swelling but quickly recoiled with a hiss of pain as soon as his fingertips made contact.

"You're such a crybaby sometimes," Clove sighed. She sat down on the ground and nudged the bloody leaf away with her toe. She turned and grinned at Peeta. "At least you know how to defend yourself now."

"Yeah," Peeta agreed. "At least I do." Never mind Cato having a peace of mind, Peeta felt a bit more relaxed now that he knew how to fight a possible attacker. Especially after the disturbing dream with Death in it. And besides, if all else failed, he could use his fists. "Not that I could have done it anyway."

Clove raised her eyebrows. "Are you sure? You seem a bit . . ."

"What?" Peeta asked defensively. "A bit what?"

"Well . . . I never take you as the sort to know how to fight," Clove said.

Peeta was a little offended. "Excuse me, I know how to fight," he said. "I came second in every wrestling meet I ever took part in. I only ever same second to my brother!"

"I'd believe that," said Cato. He stood up, tired of being smaller than everyone else, and cleaned the rest of the blood off his face. "The smallest of sparks can create the biggest of fires."

"Where'd you read that from?" Clove grinned.

Cato shrugged with an easy smile. "No where. It came from my head," he said. Peeta liked the sound of the statement. After being small most of his life (and being sick of hearing 'big things come in small packages') it was nice to hear such an encouraging statement. Especially from someone who dwarfs Peeta in height like Cato did.

While Cato and Clove stepped off to the side to discuss something, Peeta couldn't stop smiling. He was glad that Cato didn't see him as a weak boy who couldn't defend himself. He hadn't wanted to teach him self defense because he didn't think he was incapable of protecthing himself, he just did it to take a percaution. For some reason, that was all Peeta needed. The knowledge that Cato believed him in made everyone else's opinions seem pointless.

"So, what's next on the agenda?" asked Peeta.

Cato and Clove turned to him, both wearing serious faces. Peeta had a bad feeling about what they were about to say. "Well . . . we were just talking," Clove said. "And we think you're ready."

"Ready? Ready for what?" Peeta asked.

Cato took a deep breath as if preparing for a big speech. "Tomorrow I'm going to show you how to turn."

**A/N: Sorry, it's a little shorter than usual! **

**This Saturday and Sunday I won't be doing any writing because it's my birthday weekend! I'll make up for it though, I promise! ^_^**

**Please R&R! **


	11. Betrayal

**A/N: I'd like to remind everyone before you read this chapter that Peetato is endgame for this story :)**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Hunger Games. I apologize for any typos.**

**Chapter Eleven: Betrayal**

After telling him that tomorrow he would learn how to turn, Cato had disappeared with Clove to 'discuss important matters'. Peeta didn't know what to make of what he had just been told. What if it didn't work? What if one of the many changes included that Peeta couldn't find it in him to do what Cato told him to and couldn't find the supposed wolf that was buried in his subconscious? What if the wolf wasn't _there_?

This, and many other panicked thoughts, surged through Peeta's brain. He was still teetering on the fence between believing what he had been told so far and falling backwards into disbelief. It still didn't seem completely real. Like any second something was going to happen that would jerk him from an alarmingly vivid dream.

Peeta wasn't sure what drove him to do what he did next but once he was halfway there, there was no stopping him. He had no fear of getting lost, like the map to the entire forest had been branded into his mind. The Undead Camp was on the other side of the forest. It took Peeta an hour and a half to walk there but the calm, serene aura that lingered in the woods allowed him to get lost in his thoughts on the way.

There was a difference between Cato and Marvel. There also many similarities: They were both supernatural creatures, they were both incredibly old but still had a youthful face, they both knew things that Peeta didn't about himself and things he had done in the past. The differences, however, were still there. Cato was so complicated, Peeta didn't know how to get answers from him because all he did was speak so cryptically. Whereas if Peeta asked Marvel a question, he would actually answer it. And the answers that Peeta wanted to get about turning weren't something he wanted skirted around. The only person he could voice his concerns to-someone who wouldn't be blasse and confusing-was Marvel. Because if there was anyone who would be completely honest and upfront, even if what he was saying wasn't the happiest of news, it was Marvel.

It was much darker at the Undead camp, even though the sun was only beginning to set. A thick copse of trees shrouded the area in shadows, allowing the occupants to begin to wander around in the shade. Just like the map in the forest had done, Peeta was able to navigate the Undead camp ground without really thinking about it. He found Marvel's tent and paused, unsure about what he might find if he just walked on in. How do you announce your presence to a tent? Do you knock the fabric? One of the support poles?

"Erm . . . Marvel?" Peeta deicded to call. "Are you in there?"

"Come on in."

Peeta ducked underneath the entrance flap to find Marvel lying in bed with a blonde girl. From what he saw before he covered his eyes, both were naked and were probably having sex before Peeta had interuppted. "Oh god, sorry to intrude. I can come again later," Peeta quickly said.

"No, it's fine," Marvel replied. "Glimmer was just leaving."

Peeta peered through his fingers. Glimmer didn't seem to mind leaving, a pleased grin on her face as she climbed out of Marvel's bed. "See you later, baby," she purred. She brushed past Peeta and knocked her hip against his own on the way out. "Nice to see you again, sir."

When she was gone, Peeta looked at Marvel incredulously. "She called me _sir_," he said.

Marvel smirked. "I heard," he said.

"But why?!"

"I think you know why." Marvel patted the spot beside him on the bed. "Take a pew, tell me what's brought you to our humble campground."

Peeta sat on the bed beside Marvel, no longer feeling awkward. Despite things that had obviously went on between them in the past, Peeta viewed Marvel as a friend he went to to talk about things that worried him. Even if the Undead man didn't see it that way, Peeta couldn't see anything more coming from their friendship. If that even what it was.

"So, what's on your mind?" asked Marvel.

"Cato says I'm ready to learn how to turn," Peeta said. "But I don't know if I am." There was a pause while Marvel thought through what he just said. Peeta could taste the surprise just in how he didn't immediately reply to him. "What if I can't do it? What if . . . if . . . I don't know, things have changed so severely that I won't be able to find the wolf that's apparently in my subconscious? What if it's not even there?"

"I wouldn't worry about that," said Marvel. "This is all just nerves."

"Do you think I'm ready?" asked Peeta.

Marvel shrugged. "Not my place to judge. Cato's the one who decides. I just trail along behind."

Peeta picked at the fabric of Marvel's duvet. "You mean he doesn't talk to you about it?" he asked. "Shouldn't you have a say as well?"

"I wish," Marvel laughed. "To him I'm incidental. Even though we're both leaders in our own rights, I think Cato believes he's higher in rank. I don't know why, maybe because you've always been more inclined towards him. Maybe he thinks because you like him better that it gives him a right to call the shots."

"I don't like him better," Peeta immediately said. He didn't have a preference, really. Well, okay, Cato's mysterious self enticed him in ways he couldn't describe but it didn't mean that he didn't like him any more than Marvel. They were both completely different people. As he said before, Peeta liked Marvel as a friend. As for Cato . . . well he didn't exactly know what way he liked Cato but he didn't hate him either.

In the beginning, Marvel made him uncomfortable. Peeta couldn't deny this. But Marvel was the only person who gave him straight answers when he asked. All Cato did was brush it off, say it wasn't time and he'd tell him later or to trust him. Peeta did trust him but it would be a bonus if he trusted him _and_ got answers.

"You're going to make an amazing leader and a very powerful wolf," Marvel promised. "I understand why you're worried but I promise you it will work."

Silence followed as they both thought about what was to come. Peeta wanted to clear the air. He didn't care as much about the bite. Cato had made a bigger deal about it than he had. Okay, so in the moment he had been scared but Marvel was over a thousand years old, he obviously knew what he was doing and, despite what Cato said, Peeta didn't believe that he could lose control.

"Just for the record, I now know self defense so if you try something I don't like I can kick your ass," Peeta warned.

Marvel chuckled. "So he's already taught you self defense? Wow, normally he waits a few weeks before that," he said.

"Well, maybe if you hadn't bitten me he could have waited a while," Peeta pointed out.

"He freaked out about that, huh?" Marvel replied, wincing in pretend worry.

"What do _you_ think?" Peeta replied.

"God, Cato needs to loosen up. I wish we still had that Nightlock bush," said Marvel. When he saw Peeta's confused expression, he elaborated. "In the late 20th Century we found a Nightlock bush. Well, I say 'we', Cato was the one who found the bush. When he showed me it, we thought we might have another food source on our hands. It is our responsibility, as acting leaders until you are equipped for it, to trial any new or suspicious happenings, whether it be new foods cropping up or assualt investigations."

"I'm guessing the berries weren't suitable for consumption?" Peeta guessed.

"No, they were suitable. They just had the side effects of a boatload of what you humans call Ecstasy, Crack and Molly mixed into this teeny tiny berry," Marvel explained.

Peeta's eyebrows lifted. "The drugs?" he asked in disbelief.

"The very thing," Marvel confirmed.

"That must have been intense."

"Intense but fun," Marvel answered. "It was nice to see Cato not so uptight for the first time in . . . forever."

Peeta drew his knee up to his chest and rest his chin ontop of it. "I guess but isn't his authority like his quirk or something? The thing that you can't imagine him not being?" he asked.

"Sure but sometimes authority needs a break," Marvel replied. "You were there at the time, you had some of the berries as well."

"I don't do drugs." It had been Peeta's policy not to accept or do drugs ever since his brother was admitted into a hospital for a week because he mixed too much alcohol with drugs. He didn't care if people thought he was being a prude because of it, he had never thought the risks were worth it.

"_You_ mightn't but you_ did_ when we found the Nightlock bush," Marvel said.

Pushing the thought immediately away, trying to concetrate on the fact that the past was the past and couldn't be changed, Peeta asked, "And that was the only time Cato has ever . . . loosened up?" he asked.

"As far as I'm aware," Marvel replied. He regarded Peeta carefully with narrowed eyes. "Although I never know what you two did behind closed doors." The erotic flashbacks immediately came into Peeta's head but he pushed them away. It seemed to be all he did now-a-days. Pushing memories away because he couldn't bear to look at them.

Seeing something the blue of Peeta's eyes that exposed that he was thinking of a specific memory, Marvel added, "But it doesn't matter if because if I wanted to, I could find out."

Peeta moved away. "How?"

"Undead have low telepathic abilities. I can read your thoughts or put my own into your head," Marvel explained. Peeta suddenly wanted to get out of the tent as fast he could. What had Marvel heard? What had he _saw_? "Of course, I have to have a connection or it wouldn't work. It is a _low_ ability, after all."

"I don't believe you," Peeta concluded. "I have seen many things over the past week but telepathy is too far. It's up there with magic and unicorns."

Marvel rolled his eyes. "I can demonstrate, if you want."

"Fine. Go ahead." Peeta folded his arms defiantly, set in his beliefs. Why had he been so quick to worry? Telepathy was for sci-fi shows not reality. Then again, why exactly would werewolves and Undead creatures be for reality either? Did Peeta really have the lee-way to be quick to dismiss?

Marvel scooted closer and Peeta became painfully aware of the fact that he was naked. How had he not noticed it before? It had just seemed normal up until this point, like he had been in close proximity to Marvel when he was naked a thousand times before. Then again . . . he might have been.

"I'm going to put a memory of mine into your mind," Marvel explained in a professional, measured voice. "It will play out in front of you as if watching a movie behind your eyelids, get it?"

"Got it," Peeta answered.

"Close your eyes."

Peeta did, plunging himself into darkness. He flinched when he felt two fingers press against his temple, momentarily tensed with fear, but relaxed when nothing horrifying or deadly happened. That is, until the memory pushed through.

Peeta instantly knew that he was looking through Marvel's eyes, which made sense since it was his memory. He was walking through the camp, saying hellp to everyone who crossed his path. When he passed the blonde girl-Glimmer, was it?-from before, he smacked her ass, which made her giggle like a school girl. As Marvel walked into his tent, Peeta felt his blood spike in complete mortification.

There he was, on the bed they currently sat on, naked. His hair was jet black but it wasn't difficult to recognize himself. He wore a lustful expression and nothing else, the covers expertly arranged so that as much skin possible was on display while still covering his decency. "Marvie," his past self purred, "I thought you'd never get back."

"I know, I'm sorry. You know what Cato's like," Marvel answered.

Past Peeta pursed his lips and idly ran his hand up and down his bare leg. "Such a waste," he murmured. "All that muscle and no desire for fun."

"Good thing you've got me," said Marvel.

Past Peeta smirked. "You're right." He sighed dramatically. "You were taking so long I almost started without you." He bit on his fingernail girlishly and circled one of his nipples, his eyes rolling behind his head with a moan.

Marvel jumped onto the bed beside him and pulled him into his lap. "What did I do to deserve such a sexy boy as a fuck buddy?" he asked.

Past Peeta shrugged, taking Marvel's hands and placing them on his ass. The Undead man seized the opportunity and squeezed. "Maybe you just got lucky," the groped boy sighed.

"Maybe I did." Marvel, suddenly possessive, pulled the younger boy tight against him and spread his cheeks, so his finger danced dangerously close to his hole. "And now I'm going to fuck you so hard you won't remember where you are-"

"Okay I think that's enough!" Peeta declared, slapping Marvel's hand away from his head. Marvel looked so pleased with himself. "Okay, so you're telepathic. Did you really have to choose such a graphic memory to prove a point?"

Marvel shrugged. "I also wanted to prove that your past selves are completely different to what you are now. I don't come home from visiting Cato now to expect to find you naked in my tent proposing sex and touching yourself. Because that's not who you are now. I think sometimes you're too caught up in your past to worry about your future."

He got that right. Everytime something new came to him, Peeta pondered it for hours on end, convinced that it meant something. And if he didn't like what he saw he either felt violated, guilty or disgusting. Maybe he should just look to his future and not worry about what he saw. But didn't Cato say he had to focus on the past selves? No . . . wait, he said to focus on them enough to believe what he was being told was true. Well, he believed now so he needed to stop giving a damn about the memories and the fear they sometimes struck within him.

"I still don't know if I'm ready to turn." Turning into a wolf frightened Peeta more than turning Undead did. Because he had to be told how to turn into a wolf himself, something he could either succeed in or fail at. Turning Undead had none of that. All he had to do was let Marvel get on with it. There was no fear of looking like an idiot or letting anyone down.

"I can see it in your eyes, you don't want to become a wolf," said Marvel.

"Well, I don't know if I don't want to be a wolf," Peeta reasoned. "I'm just worried I won't be able to do it and I'll let Cato and the others down."

"Then don't do it. Be only Undead and you won't have to worry about any of that," Marvel said.

"Wouldn't that just let Cato down more than failing?" asked Peeta. He didn't like the excited look in Marvel's eyes and he wanted to get rid of it. "The whole point is that I'm supposed to be trying to figure out a way _not_ to let Cato down."

"Why do you always care so much about Cato?!" Marvel demanded, sounding exasperated. "Is it because he wants you on an emotionally level? Well I'm sorry that it's not in my nature to love and want to get married and have kids! Undead can't have kids anyway so it's not the point! Why can't you ever just _choose me_?!"

Peeta stared at Marvel in shock. He was almost so stunned that he couldn't think of a response. Thankfully, he managed to get words out of his mouth. "Why are you so keen to have me if you aren't capable of loving someone? Is it because Cato has wanted me in the past? Are you trying to spite him by having me choose you? Because I have chosen you in the past, remember, you showed me as much in the memory."

"But you never really choose me," Marvel muttered. "That memory, I showed you? Right after we fucked you went to Cato to talk him into joining us next time." Peeta tried not to pull a face at the thought and focused on what Marvel was saying. "It's in my nature to wish to fuck instead of love and it's in yours to be drawn to Cato more than me."

"But I'm sure when I did choose you I meant it," Peeta insisted.

"Even if you just let me drink you first," Marvel said. "If you let me turn you Undead first then it would prove to Cato that he's not as far above me as he thinks."

"I don't think he believes he's higher above you, Marvel," said Peeta. "And you can't drink me first. Cato says if you drink me first then I won't be able to turn into a werewolf. Something to do with the ritual you have to perform or something?"

Marvel stared at him, eyes suddenly dark. "Cato said that?"

"Yeah, he did but I'm sure maybe if-mpf!" Peeta was cut off when Marvel lurched forward and kissed him. His alarm was enough for the strong Undead man to overpower him, pushing his tongue past his relutanct lips and exploring inside his mouth. The kiss was so good Peeta's insides melted a little and he soon found himself kissing back. Worries over Cato were lost in an ecstasy-like haze.

Glad that Peeta was complying to him, Marvel intensified the kiss, his greedy and eager hands immediately taking the opportunity to explore. Peeta moaned into Marvel's mouth when a hand grabbed his ass over his jeans and groped it while they kissed. Arousal flushed through his body and slung his leg over Marvel's hip, desperately wanting to forget everything and just indulge in something fun for once.

Marvel lowered Peeta onto the bed, his mouth slowly gliding down his neck while he tugged his shirt sleeve down to his elbow. As his teeth took purchase on his partner's milky shoulders, he cupped his hardening crotch over his jeans and massaged the bugle in his hand. Peeta gasped, his hips lifting, begging to be freed of the confines of his own pleasure.

And then it happened.

Blinding pain exploded across his neck. Peeta screamed in pain, immediately trying to push Marvel off of him to find out what it was. Marvel was like an inmovable brick wall however, his mouth covering where the pain was coming from. It was then Peeta realized what was happening.

He was being drained of his blood.

"Marvel, stop!" Peeta protested, a shaky moan escaping him when the older man pressed his palm hard against the bulge in his pants. He squirmed to get out from underneath him but he was feeling himself getting drowiser and drowiser. Before he was too exhausted to even try and escape, Peeta grabbed Marvel's hand and hooked his leg around his ankle, using every ounce of strength he had left to push and spin the around so he was ontop.

It was a fruitless attempt. Almost immediately, all strength left him and, even though he was now on top, Peeta couldn't do anything. He fell against Marvel, unable to stop him from finishing off the job. Marvel didn't mind being beneath him, slipping a leg between both of his and groping his backside since he was too weak to stop him.

Marvel's spare hand went to Peeta's face, which he cupped gently and caressed while he drank the last drop of blood left in his system. Peeta's eyes drooped but he fought to keep awake. When Marvel pulled his teeth out of his skin, it left a sting behind. Peeta groaned weakly in agony.

"You're going to be gorgeous," Marvel purred, stroking Peeta's blond hair until he finally gave in to the darkness and passed out.

~xXx~

Peeta woke up to the sound of a butterfly beating its wings. His eyes shot open and he scanned his surroundings. It was dark and he was lying on something. He jumped to his feet, the still air bristling his skin like the caress of a leaf, and saw that he had been lying on a bed. Jerking his head from side to side, he rushed outside, his eyes able to see as clear as if it were daytime.

He immediately homed in on Marvel and anger flushed through him like a fire. The older man was talking with Glimmer by a campfire, both of them laughing as if recalling something hilarious. Peeta marched right up to them and smacked Marvel across the face.

"How dare you try and drink me!" he yelled at him. His hand stung as if it had been struck by lightening but he ignored it. "Don't you know the damage you could have done?!"

"Could have?" asked Marvel, rubbing his cheek to allevate the pain. "You mean have. However you also don't mean that because there's no damage."

"No damage?! If that had have worked I wouldn't have been able to learn how to turn into a wolf!" Peeta shouted.

"There's no 'if'. It did work," Marvel explained calmly.

"It didn't. I'm not a . . ." Peeta trailed off. He looked back over his shoulder at Marvel's tent, which was a good mile away from where they now stood. How did he get there so fast? Filled with renewed anger, Peeta smacked Marvel again, on the cheek that he hadn't injured before. "You bastard, you've ruined everything! How am I supposed to learn how to turn into a wolf like this?!"

"Because Cato lied to you," said Marvel.

Peeta stopped. He was still filled with uncontrollable rage but those five words pulled him up short. He stared at Marvel with wide eyes. "What do you mean he lied?"

"All that crap about needing to turn into a wolf first? It's bullshit, all of it." Marvel folded his arms and flexed his jaw. "I can't believe it, I bet he's been saying that ever since we came to this arrangement. No fucking wonder you always went to him. He's been lying to you!"

Peeta felt a strange urge to defend Cato, even though he had lied to him. "Surely there had to be a reason for it . . ."

"Yeah, he wanted you to stay with him, that's the goddamn reason," Marvel snapped.

Peeta could understand his anger but he didn't fully trust Marvel either now that he had attacked him so openly and suddenly. "What about the complications and maintenance involved with turning me Undead?" he asked. "Was that all a lie?"

Marvel shook his head. "Cato calls it complication but it's just because he doesn't like how it's done."

"But you didn't do anything, you just bit me."

"No. I did more than that," Marvel contradicted.

Peeta shook his head in denial. "No, I remember. We were-" He narrowed his eyes. "Was . . . was _that_ part of the transition?"

The Undead man shrugged easily. "The hotting up of your blood makes it faster and easier to drink."

Peeta felt used. He didn't know to do. He no longer trusted Cato, so he couldn't go back to him for advice. But Marvel had done something reckless and probably in the eyes of many stupid. Peeta couldn't believe that he was Undead now. He didn't feel any different. "If you thought this was going to make me closer to you, you're wrong. Now I can't trust the both of you," he said.

Marvel didn't seem bothered. "You can go back to Cato, if you want. But you'll be back. You don't know how to deal with yourself as what you are now."

Peeta scowled and pushed past the arrogant asshole, making sure to bang into him as he passed.

As he exited camp and disappeared back into the forest, Peeta tried to figure out where he was supposed to go. He didn't want to go back to Cato because 1) he lied to him and 2) he didn't want him to see him as an Undead man. And he couldn't go back to Marvel but he had bit him spontaneously one too many times. Even though Cato lied about the turning process, Peeta didn't think it had been necessary for Marvel to attack the way he did. They could have discussed it sensibly.

Now he had no one to go to.

Peeta found himself back at the pond. The moon was still reflected in the water but only a quarter of it, since it was not the night of a full moon. Peeta opened his mouth and felt along the top row of his teeth. He squeaked when his thumb caught on something sharp. A fang. Damn, he was never going to adjust to this.

"Well, Peeta, there's no turning back now," he muttered to himself. "No way out."

"Oh, I think there's always a way out."

The words turned Peeta's blood to ice. He recognized it from a flashback. Not the nicest of flashbacks. One of the many he wanted to throw from his mind and forget forever. Reluctantly, he turned around to face whoever spoke.

And came face to face with Death.

**A/N: So Cato's been lying, does he have a motive for it? And Peeta's Undead now and facing Death. Duh, DUh, DUH!**

**Please R&R! (:**


	12. Unexpected Revelations

**A/N: Sorry for the wait! It was my birthday on Sunday and then I had a touch of writer's block! :-)**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Hunger Games.**

**Chapter Twelve: Unexpected Revelations**

On a normal day, Peeta would have ran away. Got as far away from Death as possible. But he had no one to go. He didn't know where to go to. Did he run back to Marvel where his Undead tendancies would be in safe hands or flee to Cato, who would hopefully take him under his wing despite the fact he was Undead and look after him without question? Anyways, Peeta didn't know whether it was a newfound bravery he had developed because he was now Undead or his anger over what Marvel had done to him made him reckless but all he knew was that he could not find it in himself to feel fear.

"I'm guessing you're here to kill me," Peeta stated, staring into the Bringer of Death's cold green gaze.

"Not at all," he answered. Peeta shivered, the voice not having changed from how it had sounded in his flashback. He expected the man to produce a knife at any second and lunge at him. "It isn't time yet."

"Oh and when's the right time?" Peeta demanded.

Death-or should Peeta think of him as Finnick?-took a sniff of the air. "You only have the Undead in you right now. The wolf in you has to be unleashed before my job can be done."

Peeta scowled and folded his arms. He felt more comfortable in this stance, like he was denying Finnick access towards him. "Has your job always been murdering me or is it just a thing you do on the side?"

Finnick thought about it, even though Peeta was sure he already knew what the answer was. He was patronizing him, this much was clear, and the longer he pretended the think about it, the more agitated with him Peeta got. Maybe it was the Undead thoughts and desires now running through his veins, or the fact that he was severely pissed off, but he wasn't in the mood to take crap from anyone. Especially not death.

"I suppose it has. Although, I kill many people many times. I can't keep count of the amount of people I kill on a daily basis," Finnick finally replied.

"Oh, really? And here's me thinking I was special," Peeta said flatly.

"I suppose special is a way of putting it." Finnick plucked a loose piece of bark from a nearby tree and rubbed it between his fingers. "But probably not in the way you are thinking."

A few months ago, Peeta would have backed up. Stumbled backwards in fear and tried to escape. But now, after the things he had learned and saw over the past few weeks, fear was no longer something that came easily to him. Instead, he drew himself up taller and barely flinched at Death's words. "What am I thinking, then?" he asked.

"I'm Death, Peeta," Finnick said. "It's my job to kill people. You're not special in the regards that I go after you in particular. I can't say I'm all to pleased on your friends' impression of me, as if I go out of my way to pick on you."

"Maybe you should talk to them like you're doing with me," Peeta said. He already had a fair idea where this was going. Like he was already accustoming to the pace of things in this new world. "Unless this is another irregular occurance."

"It is quite irregular," said Finnick. "I don't present myself to you until the moment I decide to kill you."

"I suppose you're going to say that all the changes and differences that have went on recently are what has made you decide to also alter your usual plans?" asked Peeta.

"It is. Mostly because Marvel decided to throw everything up in the air." Finnick smirked. "How are you coping?"

Peeta touched the point of one of his fangs. It was sharp of a knife, almost drawing blood from a simple, gentle touch. He winced and shook the blood off his hand. "Apart from the teeth, I haven't noticed any differences in Undead life and what I had been like before," he said.

Finnick's grin was feral, baring every single pearly white tooth in his mouth. When Peeta had imagined death, he thought of a skeleton in a long black cloak with a scythe and lust for human souls. Not a bronze haired equavialant of a Greek God. Peeta could see why Clove would think that this man was hot but he wasn't Peeta's type. Then again, Peeta didn't even realize he had a type until he got lost in these woods.

"There's differences. Don't tell me you haven't heard the nibbling of a mouse hidden under a bush or the splash of a raindrop hitting the ground?" Finnick asked.

Immediately, Peeta thought of how he had woken up after Marvel bitten him. The beat of the wings of a butterfly had jerked him awake. "And, what does that mean?" asked Peeta

"Just your heightened senses." Finnick moved closer to the edge of the pond, stopping right before the water brushes the ground. He wore nothing but a pair of loose fitting brown pants and a long black velvet cloak. His skin was golden which was ironic since the weather in 12 was never of the tanning sort. "You'll be able to hear a baby being conceived from twenty miles away."

Peeta frowned. "When would that ever be useful to me?" he asked.

"You never know. It always came in handy when you were hunting with Mr Hadley as wolves," said Finnick.

"Mr Hadley?" Peeta recognized the name vaguely but couldn't place it properly. "Is that Cato?"

"Yes, it is," said Finnick. "How is your defiant lover, anyway? Coping with the fact that your decision regarding the choice between himself and Mr Winters has already been made? I have to say, I'm surprised. You don't seem like the form of yourself that isn't interested in emotional connection and wants nothing else but sex."

The words were like a smack in the face. Peeta wasn't proud of the fact that in the past he had been a sex crazed manaic. He didn't like being reminded too much of it either. "I haven't chosen anyone," he muttered.

"Are you sure because what I saw of you in Marvel's tent says otherwise," Finnick answered.

Peeta flushed in embarrassment. "You saw that?" he asked.

Finnick's green eyes sparkled. "I see everything."

"I didn't mean to do anything with Marvel. I got lost in the moment, I honestly don't want anything to come of it. I was angry at Cato for lying to me . . ." Peeta trailed off. He didn't want to admit out loud that he already regretted what he did with Marvel deeply. "Nothing will come of it. It's not like Marvel has emotional connections anyway. He said that Undead aren't capable of love."

"Doesn't mean he doesn't really enjoy your . . . _company._" Finnick was fighting back a cheeky smirk.

"What I decide to do is none of your business anyway," said Peeta. "Just because you kill me all the time doesn't mean you can invade my private buisness."

"I can do whatever I wish. I pry into the private life of everyone," Finnick replied. "I like to keep a special eye on you, however, because I have to know when the right time to strike is. Sometimes I'm right, sometimes I'm wrong. Especially if Cato is in the way."

"Are you right or wrong this time?" asked Peeta.

"This time isn't the right time. I don't know there's going to be a time, if I'm honest. The differences are too great, maybe this time you'll survive. However, I won't get your hopes up. There isn't a point in it," said Finnick. He glanced at Peeta and smiled. "You could still die, if I decide that there's a time for you to die."

"Why do you have to choose to kill me? Can't you just leave me be? I don't understand what you have against me," Peeta said.

"I don't have anything against you," Finnick shrugged. "You've just been . . . the most abnormal thing I've ever had to deal with in my thousands of years of experience as Death. You're an oddity. When you die, you just keep coming back. Your name was put onto my death list in year 0. But when I killed you, you came back eighteen years later. Your name then reappeared on the list and I had to repeat the process. Once Cato started noticing the pattern he started defending you and keeping me away. Except I always managed to get there at some point and complete the job."

"But I always come back, right?" Peeta finished.

"Yes. Your name isn't on the list yet, hence why I can't kill you. Something tells me you won't ever be, either, because of the changes," Finnick explained.

Peeta turned and stared at the water. He thought back to something Marvel had said about Cato daring to hope that he wouldn't die this time around or something along those lines. Maybe that hope wasn't misplaced. Maybe he could survive. Excitement bubbled in his chest and he had to bite it back as to not embarrass himself in front of Death. "So . . . do you have a scythe or something? To reap the reap the souls of the dead with?" he asked.

"No," answered Finnick. "But I do have this." He held out his hand, golden sparks erupting from his fingertips. The sparks flew together to form a long staff with three sharp points at the top. It formed a fork-like shape. No. A trident. The tips of the three points swirled with greyish smoke. "When I kill someone their soul is taken into the trident, where it is judged on purity or disgrace and this decides where they go."

"So you really are just Death?" Peeta asked. "You're not some crazy psycho with a vendetta against me?"

"Why in the world would I have a vendetta against you? I only seem like the bad guy because Cato and Marvel have probably been playing me up to seem so," Finnick said. He sighed and twirled the trident around between his fingers. "I'm just doing my job. You've been destined to die ever since year 0. And I've been doing my job by killing you every time your name shows up on my list."

"Obviously not exactly when my name shows up," contradicted Peeta. He folded his arms, as if to brace himself against the cold, even though he felt nothing. "Marvel told me Cato has managed to keep me alive more than three times the amount I'm supposed to live."

"True," Finnick agreed. "But that's because he cares about you very much."

Peeta shivered as the moon peeked out from behind the leaves and bounced off the surface of the water. He felt the urge to wade in to the middle, to feel the shine of the moon on his skin, to find out how it felt to be touched by what was now his ruler. "Do you know what Cato is to me? Why everyone is keeping it so secret?" he asked.

"Cato will tell you when he sees fit," Finnick replied.

"Seriously?! Not even you can tell me?!" exclaimed Peeta. Fed up, he sat down on the ground, exhaling heavily in a huff. "All I want is one simple answer, why can't anyone give me that?!"

Finnick closed his eyes. Peeta watched him curiously, wondering what he was doing. Last time someone did that in front of him, it was Marvel envisioning his naked body from a previous encounter. Finnick's lips quirked up in amusement. "He will tell you soon," he said. "I can see it in his mind."

"You can read minds?"

"I can read anything." Finnick opened his eyes again. "I am the opposite of God, after all. A fallen angel, if you will. I can do anything I want to."

"Is that how you saw me and Marvel . . . "

"Enjoying each other's company? Yes."

Peeta narrowed his eyes. "Are you some sort of pervert?" he asked.

Finnick shrugged, not at all bothered. "As an entity who has never been able to engage in such activities, I've always been curious. However, as steamy as the encounters between yourself and Mr Winters are, the ones with Mr Hadley have always been much more interesting. With Winters there is nothing but lust, with Hadley there's . . ."

"What? What is there?" Peeta asked.

Finnick stuck the end of his trident into the ground and leaned on it. "There's emotion."

Peeta wasn't surprised by the answer, somehow. If he had been told that Marvel was the one with the emotions, he'd have been shocked but it wasn't. It was Cato. Peeta looked back out at the moon's reflection, thinking of the way the leader of the Undead told him that they worshipped the moon. The urge to swim out to the reflection got stronger by the minute. It wasn't a full moon. Would it really be such a bad thing to go out there?

"You could give it a go but I don't think it'd be wise," Finnick said, reading his thoughts.

"Will it hurt me like the full moon?" Peeta asked.

"No but I'd say the effects would be rather extraordinary. I've never witnessed it before so you could give it a shot," Finnick replied. His eyes shut for a moment and his smile widened. "Your other half is coming. If you wish to do it, I'd do it now."

It felt like Peeta had been given permission. When he tentatively dipped the toe of his sneaker into the water, he couldn't resist it and walked until he was waist deep. It was like the moon called to him. Enticing him into bending the rules. Finnick said it wasn't life threatening anyway, so what side effect could be possibly worse?

When his fingertips touched the reflection, the skin tingled. In a good way. Peeta stuck his whole hand into the water, watching as the moon's light caused it to shine with an inhuman glow. Pushing himself forward, Peeta let himself float directly under the moonlight. It send a shudder through his being, his skin tingling. Goosepimples rose across his arms and neck, a ligthening-like shockwave pulsing through his veins. It felt so good he almost moaned.

Holding his breath, Peeta ducked his head under the water, submerging himself. The tingles seized hold of his body and his eyes rolled behind his head, his toes curling as if it would ward off the feeling a little so he could think straight. It was like a switch flipped in his mind and he felt different. All he could of was feeling more of these tingles, to feel more of the glorious shockwaves it pushed through him.

As he burst through the water again, still underneath the moon's shine, he saw that Finnick was no longer there. In his place stood Cato, looking absolutely horrified. For the first time since he arrived at the woods, Peeta felt something different to embarrassment when it came to admitting his attraction to the wolf. He wasn't feeling himself, he knew that much, and his body was seized with lust for the older man.

"Peeta? What have you done?" Cato asked carefully.

"I've done nothing," Peeta replied. Even his voice felt weird coming from his mouth. It was nothing but a lewed purr. "It's not my fault Marvel couldn't control himself around me."

Cato frowned. He stared at Peeta incredulously. "Get out from under the moonlight," he said.

"Who are you to give me orders, liar?" Peeta demanded. He _really_ did not feel himself. It was strange, like he was having an out of body experience. It was like the moonlight had awoken something inside of him. Something he hadn't realized was there. Had Finnick known that this was how he was going to feel or had he been genuinely oblivious to the effects the moon could have on an Undead person when it wasn't full?

"Liar?" Cato repeated slowly.

"Yes, liar," Peeta hissed. "You lied to me about the change! You said that I'd have to turn into a wolf first! Why did you do that?" He lowered his voice. "Was Marvel right? Was it because you wanted the bond with me?"

"Bond? What are you talking about? I wanted to turn you into a wolf first because it's safer. I didn't want to explain this to you because then you'd ask more questions. I can't believe you'd jump straight to the worst conclusion. I can't believe you'd believe Marvel over . . ."

Narrowing his eyes, Peeta sank into the water, so the surface tickled the tip of his nose. His clothes were so wet that his sleeves were slipping down his arms, allowing the cool water to reach the untouched skin that lay beneath. Therefore infecting him more and increasing his rotten attitude. When he spoke, his mouth was under the water, yet his voice came out clearly and he did not choke.

"What? Over you? You won't even tell me who you are!" he accused. "At least Marvel's honest!"

Cato laughed. "If you think Marvel's being honest you're deluding yourself," he said. "Marvel won't be truthful with you. He never is." He stopped and narrowed his eyes. "Did he turn you already?"

Peeta smirked, feeling a wave of smugness wash over him. He let his head emerge from the water and bared his teeth, revealing the two perfect points of his fangs. The sight caused Cato to clench his fists but he did not go on the vicious rampage Peeta had expected. Instead, he asked, "He didn't hurt you, during the transition, did he?"

"No. He was a perfect gentleman. Well, for Marvel anyway." An obvious lie but Peeta wanted to punish Cato for lying to him as well.

Hiding how hurt he felt, Cato sighed and actually entered the water, approaching Peeta with impressive speed. The younger boy didn't want to step out from under the moonlight but the closer Cato got, the more he realized that he mightn't have a choice.

"Leave me alone!" Peeta shouted, backing up as far as he could. "I don't want to be babied by you anymore!"

"I'm not babying you," Cato said calmly. He stopped at the edge of the moon's reflection. The moon didn't harm wolves but he didn't know what Peeta would be capable of underneath its harsh glow. "I'm protecting you, there's a difference."

"No there isn't. I spoke with Death, he told me the truth! He isn't a threat, he's just . . . _Death!_ You keep getting in the way!" Peeta shouted at him. He wasn't sure where all this rage was coming from but it was like opening up a tin of beans. Once the lid was off, there was no turning back. He was grateful that Cato protected him from Finnick and his Death list, he just wanted someone to scream at in frustration.

A fash of momentary surprise overtook Cato's green gaze. He blinked and it was gone again but Peeta immediately knew there would be questions about what he just said later. Damn, why couldn't he just keep his mouth shut? Cato wasted no more time and grabbed Peeta by the elbow, trying to pull him out from underneath the reflection. Peeta struggled but his lean body was no match for Cato's much more mature, muscled strength and he was soon overpowered.

Cato managed to drag him out from under the moon. As soon as he was out and in the darkness again, Peeta felt himself deflate. He didn't know what it was the moon had done to him but whatever it was drained him of his energy. He was able to meet Cato's emerald eyes once and force a tight smile before he fell against the older man and passed out.

~xXx~

Normally, after passing out, one would feel groggy but when Peeta's eyes fluttered open hours later, he didn't feel the least bit tired. Instantly realizing that he was back in his bed in the leadership cabin at the wolf camp, Peeta sat up in confusion. Since he was Undead now, wasn't he supposed to stay at Marvel's campground, not Cato's? The windows were covered up so the cabin was shourded in darkness. He felt weirdly bare underneath the bedsheets and gasped when he peered underneath them and saw that he was nude. What happened his clothes? Did someone steal them?

Cato was asleep on his own bed, completely unaware that Peeta had woken. Peeta felt guilty for the things he had said while under the influence of the moon. He had wanted to calm down before confronting Cato about the lies, in case there was a reasonable explanation for it but instead he had to go and be irrational. Then there was Finnick to contend with. Peeta didn't know what to think of him. Was he a good guy just doing his job or a bad guy just being a douche?

"Cato?" Peeta whispered.

"Hmm?" Cato immediately responded, as if he had only been lingering on the edge of sleep and waking. He pulled himself up and rubbed his eyes tiredly. "Is something wrong?"

"What happened?" asked Peeta. "Where are my clothes?"

Cato swung his legs over the edge of the bed and walked over to Peeta's bed. The floor creaked under his feet and the mattress bowed when he sat down on it. There were dark circles under his eyes. "Your clothes were sopping wet, I couldn't put you to sleep in them."

"But . . . what happened?" Peeta remembered wading into the water and standing under the moon but most of what happened afterward was a blurr.

"You stood underneath the moonlight when it was a crescent," Cato said. "That isn't as leathel as it would be if it had have been full but it isn't entirely safe either. It opens your mind and makes you a lot more confident and open that you usually are." He stopped, thinking something over, before continuing. "Is it okay if I ask you a few things about what you told me?"

Peeta shrugged. He hiked the bedsheets further up his body so his arms were mostly covered. "Go ahead," he replied.

Cato wasted no time. "Did you consent to being turned Undead?" he asked.

Peeta didn't know how to answer. He consented to the first half . . . to the . . . intimate part . . . but he didn't want to be turned into Undead. But that was only because Cato had told him that he was supposed to be turned into a wolf first. If he was honest with himself, however, he really hadn't wanted Marvel to do it. "No," he finally answered. "I didn't."

The answer clearly annoyed Cato but he did not let it control him at that moment in time. "Did you let him . . . arouse you?" he asked. This question was asked with care. Peeta was silent. What was he supposed to say? Well, he could tell Cato the truth but was afraid of how he would react to it. Cato did deserve the truth, even if it would be difficult admitting it.

"Yes. I did." Peeta watched Cato's reaction carefully. He expected him to definitely be angry this time. Only he wasn't. He went completely silent. It killed Peeta to wait for some form of reaction. What if Cato lowered his opinion of him because of this? What if he thought he was a whore? A slut who would gladly take part in the first half of the Undead changing process but freak out when it reached the painful part?

All he said was two words: "I see."

Peeta was ashamed. He didn't even know what had gotten into him when he had let Marvel kiss him. He had never been kissed like that before and just got lost in the moment. It made him feel horrible as he wasn't interested in having anything with Marvel. Not even fleeting sexual encounters like what the Undead man seemed to wish to have.

Cato shook his head and focused on the floor. Peeta wanted to explain himself to Cato but he couldn't find the words and the older man continued before he had a chance to. "You told me you spoke to Death. What did you mean?"

"Just that. Finnick came to me and I spoke to him," Peeta explained. "We had a proper conversation and everything. He explained a lot to me. He isn't as bad a guy as you've described. He's Death just doing his job."

"Peeta, you can't trust a word that comes out of Finnick's mouth," Cato said firmly. "You're right, he's Death. He's a manipulator, he'll try to make himself out to see like the good guy but he's not."

"Have you ever spoken to him before?" asked Peeta.

"Yes. I have. And I know the sort of tricks he pulls."

Peeta shook his head in denial. "But he told me. He's Death, he kills everyone. I suppose I've just kind of been a pest he can't rid himself of. Every eighteen years I come back and my names keeps appearing on his Death List. I was supposed to die in Year 0."

"No, Peeta. You're talking as if this is your fault. It's not your fault, do you hear me? You can't control the rebrith process. Did Finnick make it out as if it was your fault?" Cato demanded to know.

"He didn't make it out to be anything," Peeta replied. "He just explained himself."

"He is _not_ the good guy in all this," Cato insisted.

Peeta couldn't accept this. What Finnick said to him made sense and Peeta could understand how frustrating it must be for him to do his job only for it to be in need of repeat every eighteen years. Why Cato wouldn't hear him out, however, he couldn't understand at all.

"He's just doing his job!" Peeta exclaimed. "He doesn't just target me, he kills everyone! You know, like the Grim Reaper sort of thing."

"He keeps killing you, though. Why does he do that?!" Cato replied. He fixed Peeta with a sharp look he couldn't tear his eyes away from. The glow coming from his gorgeous green eyes made Peeta at a loss for words. He scrabbled desperately for something to say.

"Because when a name shows up on his list, he doesn't have a choice!" he finally said. "My name will always show up. Eighteen years after I die, you find me and my name shows up as a sign to be killed. You don't have a choice in when you die and Finnick doesn't have a choice in who gets killed!"

"You don't understand!" Cato suddenly shouted, making Peeta jump in surprise. "Anyone who kills you, anyone who takes you away from me is the bad guy!" He groaned and put his head into his hands. "It's all he ever does. He takes you from me over and over again and you're calling him the _good guy_?"

"Takes me away from . . . you?" Peeta could see how distressed Cato had become. He scooted closer to him, keeping the covers wrapped around him and placed a comforting hand on his back. "Cato," he said gently, "what are you to me?"

He expected the answer to be blithe or for Cato to push it off again. "I am whatever you want me to be," he said. He turned his head and looked at Peeta seriously. His eyes were shining, on the tipping point of tears. "I will be whatever you want me to be. Anything to be near you."

Peeta stared at him. He didn't know what to say. "What I want?" he voiced.

"I have been many things for you over the years. Brother, best friend, confidant, boss, lover . . . husband. I will do anything to be close to you, even if it hurts. But Finnick, _Finnick,_ he fucking kills you! He takes you away from me!"

"Cato . . . I had no idea . . ."

Cato met Peeta's eyes, his own full of hope. "What is it you want this time? Because if you want to be with Marvel, I understand. If it makes you happy, then I'm happy too. I just need to know."

Peeta was conflicted. After wondering so long about who Cato was to him, this wasn't the answer he had expected. He had expected a straight answer, one answer, not many. It prompted the question: what did he want Cato to be? All this time they had been in the woods, how long he had wanted to discover who Cato was to him, and he never thought about what he wanted him to be.

But the answer came to his mind as easy as what his name was.

Putting everything on the line, Peeta smiled, closed his eyes and leaned forward.

Forgetting about everything and kissing Cato.

**A/N: I'm sorry for any mistakes, my fingers have been really weird recently (I don't know if it's because I haven't been typing for a few days or not) so there may be a lot and a few that I've missed out.**

**Please R&R! **


	13. Irrevocable Love

**A/N: I don't own the Hunger Games.**

**Chapter Thirteen: Irrevocable Love**

Cato was frozen. His reluctance to respond to the kiss made Peeta feel sick. Had he crossed a line? Done something he shouldn't have? Maybe he'd gotten the wrong idea. Maybe Cato's telling him about who he was to him wasn't what it seemed. Maybe he had done it just to get it out of the way. What if he didn't want Peeta to be something more than what he already was this time around?

"Peeta, I want to know what you're thinking," Cato said. "I need to know you're not just doing this because you feel obligated."

"I don't feel obligated!" Peeta exclaimed. He tried to move closer to Cato but couldn't with the way the covers were bunched up around him. "Why would I ever feel obligated?!"

"Because you chose Marvel . . . didn't you?" asked Cato.

Peeta laughed, despite the situation. "I didn't chose Marvel, I chose you! It's only ever been you! All I've ever wanted is to find out who you are to me! You're the one who's been looking after me, despite everything I've probably put you through. I know I've probably been a complete ass in the past, chasing after Marvel when I should have known that you're who I should be with."

"None of that was your fault," Cato said, shaking his head. "You can't control who you're attracted to. Sometimes it was me, sometimes it was Marvel."

"Well now it's you," Peeta insisted. "Marvel is nothing but a mentor to me. I need him to show me how to control myself as Undead but that's it. I fell under his spell once but never again. I want _you,_ Cato."

Cato stared at Peeta so hard it felt like he was trying to read his soul. Peeta mentally begged him to see that he was telling the truth. To see that he was only ever going to want him. The mystery that had shrouded their relationship had driven him to the edge of madness and now that he knew the truth, there was no way he could leave Cato behind.

"What do you want from me?" Cato finally asked. Peeta frowned, confused. "You have to tell me. I will give you whatever you need from me."

"What were we to each other the last time we were together?" asked Peeta.

A smile curled on Cato's face, as if a fond memory were coming to mind. "Last time?" he repeated. Peeta nodded. "Well . . . last time we got married."

Then, suddenly, it was there. In his head. The leaves of every single tree glowed bright green, the sun pouring through each one to set the entire forest alight as if it were on fire. An altar, decorated with an array of white flowers. Katniss stood at the top, beaming a smile Peeta had only ever seen once before. When her baby sister Prim graduated middle school and got a scholarship to Yale.

Cato and him. Together. Side by side. They weren't wearing fancy suits, nothing but the casual clothes on their backs. It didn't seem to matter about any of that anyway. It was about their love and only that. Cato's bright green eyes, shining into his heart and setting him alight inside.

Peeta blinked and the vision was gone. He stared at Cato, who sat watching him curiously. "You saw it, didn't you?"

Peeta nodded. He didn't realize until now but he wanted it to happen again. He wanted to know what it felt like to be in Cato's arms, to kiss him again, to love him and be loved by him. "I feel like I love you," Peeta said. "How can I love you, I barely know you, it doesn't make sense. I don't understand it."

Cato straightened up. He slipped his hand underneath the bedcovers and threaded his fingers through Peeta's. His hand was warm and Peeta gratefully allowed him to hold onto it. "It's because you can feel it. All those years we've spent together, you can feel it and you know that we're meant to be with each other. You can feel how much I love you."

"I can?" Peeta replied.

"Well . . . I hope so."

Peeta didn't know how to reply. What Cato said felt like the truth. He loved him because, somewhere, subconsciously, he felt the love Cato had given him all those years before. "Do you still love me now, even though I'm Undead?" he asked quietly. "Because if that puts you off, I completely understand."

Cato frowned, as if he had said something stupid. "After all these years, when there's a chance you won't die and we can live our lives together without fear of death, and you're asking if I'll accept you just because Marvel turned you first?" he asked incredulously.

"In more or less words?" Peeta guessed.

Cato chuckled fondly. He sounded like he had heard the funniest thing ever. "You always were incredibly stupid." Without another word, he pulled Peeta against him and smashed their lips against one another's. Peeta gasped but he gladly accepted the kiss, melting against the older man.

It felt like fireworks. A plug shorting out, sparks exploding, a shower of twinkling stars streaming across a night's sky. Peeta felt the kisses all at the once. Every single one he experienced with Cato. The loving pecks, the lustful make outs, the quick indecisive kisses, the long, drawn out snogs . . . that one life changing pressing together of the lips that sealed their fate that one gorgeous day.

"Do you?" Peeta whispered, his breath meeting Cato's in laboured pants until they were basically sharing each other's life source. "Do you really love me?"

"Of course I love you," Cato replied, stealing another quick kiss. "I will always love you. The years we aren't together are like a dagger in my soul but I wait. I always wait. I would wait for over a million years, just to see you smile again."

"And you do it with the knowledge that I maybe won't want you back?"

Cato framed Peeta's face and pressed their foreheads together. The heightened senses of the Undead made Peeta gasp, the blood pumping through Cato's veins ringing in his ears as loud as bass drums. He shut his eyes, basking in it. It mixed with the beating of his own blood and it was a sign that they were both alive. Alive and well. Together.

"It was enough to see you again. To hear you laugh and smile and talk to me," Cato answered. Peeta smiled, almost feeling tears curling in his eyes. No one had ever spoken to him like that before. All his life he had felt like he was unaccomplished, like he was missing the big picture completely. _This_ was the big picture. Being here, now, with Cato.

"I don't want to be a wolf," Peeta concluded.

Cato pulled away from him slightly to look into his eyes. His stare was piercing and Peeta forced himself not to fall under his spell. "Why not?" asked Cato. He sounded hurt and Peeta immediately tried to defend himself.

"If I don't turn into a wolf then my name will never show up on Finnick's list. I'll be safe," he explained. "Even if this time around is different, my safety would be assured then!"

Cato smiled but didn't accept the explanation. "Peeta, then you won't become our leader. We need your leadership. I don't want your name to ever show up on Finnick's list but it's your destiny to lead both clans. We need you."

"But you need me more," Peeta replied. "I don't want to die again. I don't want to forget you." He cupped Cato's cheeks and forced him to look at him. "I _love_ you. I want to marry you again, I don't want to die. I love you so, so much Cato. I don't even know what else to say but that. I can't do this, I don't want to be reborn again because I love you."

Cato closed his eyes and wrapped his arms around Peeta's waist, pulling him tight against his body. "I will always be here by your side, no matter what you choose to do. Just tell me what it is you want to do and I'll stand by you no matter what choice you make."

Peeta curled his fingers into Cato's back, burying his face into the older man's neck and breathing in his scent. "I don't know what to do anymore."

"If you allow me to turn you into a wolf, I will guard you with my life. I promise."

"But isn't that what you always do? I know you try as hard as you can, I know there isn't much else you can do and I appreciate every single second you spend with me but I always end up dying because Finnick finds a way. If I don't turn wolf then the chances of my name ever appearing on his list are less than they would be if I do."

"But if you stay Undead you're legally obliged to stay with Marvel," Cato replied. He spoke as if the thought alone was horrifying, like Marvel was a pedaphile who would keep Peeta in a cage and only feed him with tiny grains of rice. "We will barely get to see each other."

"Under who's rules?" Peeta demanded.

Cato laughed softly, his breath caressing the skin of Peeta's neck. "Your rules," he answered.

Damn. Peeta wished he could remember what was going through his head when he made up these rules and laws. Was this when he was crazy? Did he prefer the company of Cato or Marvel when he came up with the rules? Did he have any help when he did come up with them? Or did they all come from his twisted head?

"I hate myself," Peeta muttered.

"Don't hate yourself," Cato said firmly. "It's not your fault."

"How isn't it? I came up with all these horrible rules."

"Another version of you did."

"It was still me though." Peeta groaned in irritation. "I wish I could go back and change it. I wish there was a way I could have stopped myself from making such idiotic rules."

"But there isn't, that's the point. We must live with the mistakes we make but that's okay because you don't know it's a mistake until it's made." Cato's arms were so warm and Peeta felt like he fitted in them perfectly, like they were sculpted to fit each other. "We'll figure out a way. You don't have to turn wolf if you think it's what will save you. I love you no matter what you are."

Peeta loved hearing those words coming from Cato's mouth. He shuddered in the older man's arms, knowing it wasn't because he was wearing only a bedsheet.

He realized, for the first time since he had been turned by Marvel, that his stomach felt hauntingly empty. It took the sound and feel of Cato's blood to cause him to realize this. "If I don't turn into a wolf . . . what am I supposed to eat?" Peeta asked.

Cato broke their hug and took his chin between his thumb and forefinger. "Why? Hasn't Marvel told you? He's supposed to talk to you about all this before he turns you," he said.

"There wasn't really time for it. He did it very . . . suddenly," Peeta answered.

Cato sighed heavily. "Damn it Marvel," he muttered. "Okay, here." He took Peeta's hands and placed them on his wrist. When Peeta looked at him questioningly, he said, "It's alright, just try not to drink it all."

"Cato, I couldn't . . ." Peeta replied. This didn't sound incredibly solid as he had already lifted Cato's wrist to his nose and had taken a tentative sniff. It smelled wonderful, like it would taste gorgeous. "I don't know if I can."

"It's fine, I trust you to know how to control yourself. Just, well, you know, don't kill me," Cato replied. He saw how unsure Peeta still was and pressed a gentle kiss to the younger boy's lips. "I told you I would be what you want me to be. You're in need of food, I'll be your source."

"Cato . . ."

"You always were a giant moan," Cato chuckled, pressing his lips to the underside of Peeta's jaw. "Do as I say and take some. It's not like I don't have plenty. And as long as you're careful, I can't die anyway."

"'Do as I say'?" Peeta repeated, his eyes fluttering shut in content and allowing Cato to continue kissing his neck. He smiled. "What are you? My boss?"

"Are you hungry or not?" Cato replied.

"Okay, okay, jeez." Peeta crossed his legs and readjusted his grip on Cato's wrist. He glanced up at the older blond nervously. "Tell me when to stop? I don't know if I'll be able to control myself unless you do."

"I promise I'll stop you," said Cato.

Peeta ran out of requests and questions. He had no other choice but to take some of Cato's blood. Breathing in deep, he lifted Cato's wrist to his mouth and bit down onto it. Cato inhaled sharply but made no other sound of pain. The blood that flooded Peeta's mouth tasted like nothing he had ever consumed before. In a good way. Like when you're unsure of eating something when you learn what it is but once you try it you realize it's actually the best thing you've ever tasted.

Cato's breathing was even but slightly laboured. He didn't make a sound of distress and he comforted Peeta instead of himself by pushing his fingers through his hair and speaking sweet nothings. Peeta barely heard because he was too busy indugling himself but Cato's voice alone was a comforting factor in itself.

After five minutes (Peeta was only guessing it was five minutes, really he had lost all sense of time) Cato patted his back. "Okay, you need to stop now," he said gently. "I'm getting a little dizzy."

Peeta reluctantly let go. He didn't expect his mouth to be coated in blood when he pulled away but his lips and teeth were dripping in the thick red liquid. Cato was staring at him with a gaze he couldn't decipher. Peeta was horrified, cupping his mouth and trying to hide how feral he probably looked. Cato probably thought he was an animal. How quickly he had been to drink some of his blood. He felt ashamed of himself.

"You have no idea how hot you look with blood dripping from your chin," Cato said, using his knuckle to stop some of the droplets of blood from staining the duvet. Peeta blushed, unable to stop himself from smiling even though his teeth were also coated in blood.

"I look a mess," he contradicted.

Cato rolled his eyes and shook his wrist to staunch the blood flowing out of the teeth wounds. "A hot mess," he said.

"You're just one big flirt, aren't you?" Peeta teased.

"I'm not a flirt, I'm just a very honest man," Cato answered seriously. "And I can honestly tell you that I have always found the Undead part of you a little sexy." Peeta blushed again, desperately trying to clean his mouth with the back of his hand.

"Sexy, really?" Peeta asked flatly. He gestured at his dripping mouth. "This is what does it for you?"

"Wolves are very territorial, Peeta," Cato answered, his voice low. "It's not even the fact that you're covered in blood that's hot it's the fact that it's _my_ blood you're covered in. Almost like a marking of ownership. A sign for everyone else to back off because you're mine."

Peeta had to admit, that did sound pretty hot. "So I'm covered in your blood often then?" he flirted.

"I don't have it any other way," Cato replied. He closed the distance between them again and sealed their lips together. He didn't care that Peeta was covered in blood, or the fact that it was his own blood. Unlike the previous kisses, this one held passion and heat, the need to pry one another's mouths open to explore the moist depths of the interior.

Peeta completely forgot that his fingers were soaked red as he wound his arms around Cato's neck and pulled him closer to his body. His body felt like it was being furfilled, like everything he needed was right here in front of him. Which, really, it was.

Working completely on autopilot and relying on his instincts, Peeta lay on his back on the bed. Cato didn't break the kiss as he crawled on top of him. He did, however, break it to venture the silky pale skin of his love's neck. The feel of Cato's soft lips on his skin sent chills through Peeta's being. He wrapped his legs around the older blond's waist to pull him closer, the bedsheets being the only thing covering his torso and intimacy. Cato's hands were gentle, softly gliding along his skin as if he were a vaulable piece of art he couldn't break. Peeta had never experienced the touch of another man (in this life anyway) but his body was aching for it as if he had experienced it a thousand times before (which, in retrospect, he probably had).

Peeta hadn't realized he had closed his eyes until Cato had pushed the bedsheets down and was kissing his chest, his hair tickling his skin being what brought this to his attention. Whenever he tried to open them again, however, they fluttered heavily-something that was probably very unattractive-so he kept them shut.

A tiny gasp escaped him when Cato's mouth found his nipples which were, admittedly, his most vulnerable area besides the obvious. The sound was small and strangled but Peeta couldn't help that, his back bowing off the mattress as he pushed his chest upwards in approval. Cato captured a hardened peak between his lips, sucking gently on it while he pinched and rolled the other one by hand.

"Cato," Peeta whimpered, feeling impossibly hot and still utterly unsexy. Cato hummed against his skin, letting a hand drift underneath the bedsheets to tease Peeta's hard manhood. Peeta's eyes shot open in horror and he yelped, the sound so alarmed that Cato sat up immediately, pulling everything to a halt.

"I'm sorry, did I go too far?" Cato asked, holding his hands up as if he were about to be arrested.

"No," Peeta replied, scrambling to sit up. "I just wasn't prepared for it. Maybe we should . . . cool down anyway. I think admitting undeniable love for each other is enough for one night . . ." He glanced at the window and frowned. " . . . day . . . ?"

Cato nodded in agreement. "You're right," he said.

Peeta laughed nervously, bunching the sheets back up around his body. It was strange, even though they had just been kissing and . . . touching . . . he still felt self conscious about his body. The fabric, however, did not agree with his now sensitive nipples and twinged his nerves. "Oh god, that feels weird," he muttered.

"What does?" asked Cato.

"Your stupid mouth has messed my chest up," Peeta accused. "Now everything feels like a lightening bolt."

"Oh, that's your Undead senses. Makes you an animal in bed," Cato said. He laughed at how this made Peeta's mouth drop open in mortification. "What? I told you I'm an honest man. Undead people are freaks in bed, there's no getting around it and because of how heightened your senses are now since you don't have the wolf in you the fact that I sucked on your gorgeous little peaks makes them very, _very_ sensitive to touch now."

"Oh well, thanks for that," Peeta said sarcastically. Cato winked and pinched one of his pink buds, snickering childishly when Peeta yelped and smacked his arm away. "Stop it!"

"Alright, alright. I just need to . . . I don't know what to do about . . . " Cato glanced down at his crotch sheepishly.

Peeta blushed and rubbed the back of his neck. "I think I need to do the same," he admitted.

"The pond water is rather cold." Cato went to the window and glanced out behind the covers preventing the sunlight from getting in. "The sun is setting and there doesn't seem to be anyone around. We could go there, since we pretty much both stink now anyway."

"Excuse me, I do not stink," Peeta said indignantly. He stood up, wrapping the sheets elaborately around his body. Cato raised his eyebrows at him in disbelief. "What?"

"You're still going to hide?" asked the older wolf.

"Yes, yes I am," Peeta answered.

Cato shook his head. He wrapped an arm around Peeta's shoulders and pulled him against his side. He pressed a warm kiss to his temple and murmured, "You're so cute when you're shy."

Peeta smiled. "Thanks."

As they walked to the door, Cato added, "You know, you're going to have to take that off once you're in the water." Peeta scowled and flipped him off, knowing that Cato had probably never seen such a gesture before now. "Hey, don't think you haven't done that to me in the past, I know what it means you cheeky minx!" Cato exclaimed. Peeta laughed.

Neither realized there was to be a full moon that night.

**A/N: R&R with your thoughts! :-)**


	14. Definition of Death

_**This chapter is dedicated in memory of Robin Williams. **_

**Chapter Fourteen: Definition of Death**

The forest darkened during the walk to the pond. Peeta hadn't completely thought through his using the bedsheets as a form of cover until passerbys started to stare and a few wolf whistled. He began to wish he had thought to ask Cato where he had put his clothes to dry off. But the way Cato's arm tightened around Peeta and the _"keep testing me, see how that works out for you," _glares he threw at every bypassing perv made Peeta forget to even worry about it. Meh, he'd get his clothes later.

The sun disappeared beyond the horizon and the moon began to peak out from behind the clouds. Peeta shivered. Goosepimples rose along his arms and down his back, prickling his skin like a thousand needles. Alarms bells faintly ran in the back of his head, trying to alert him of the danger to come, but they were so vague Peeta barely noticed them. When they reached the pond, the moon had completely risen in the sky, hovering in its usual position in the gap of the leaves. The reflection in the water was blinding, shining so white it lit up the entire area. As blissful as the walk through the woods had been, the sight of the full moon was a cause for great alarm.

Cato cursed under his breath. "Damn it, I didn't know the moon was supposed to be full tonight." He held an arm out in front of Peeta as if expecting him to lurch towards the water just by laying eyes on the reflection.

Apart from the goosebumps on his skin that were growing painful, Peeta didn't feel any different. A little spooked by the full moon and it's potential danger, that was it. "We should go back," he said none-the-less. "We can figure out some other way to wash up. I'm sure there's a creek or river or . . . something . . . somewhere else. Somewhere far, _far_ from here." Marvel had been right. Once you're Undead, you begin to fear the moon and the terrifying grip it has over you.

Cato nodded, his eyebrows furrowing as he tried to recall another water source. "Yeah, there's a creek somewhere over in that direction," he finally said, pointing to the left. "It's about an hour walk so we'd better-"

"What are you two doing here?!"

Both looked up, surprised to see that Marvel had appeared, standing on a ledge of earth that overlooked the pond. It freaked Peeta out how Undead could be no where in sight one minute then standing there bold as brass the next. Although, he could be that freaky now, if he wanted to.

"Are you crazy?" Marvel exclaimed. "Coming out here when there's a full moon? And . . . " he narrowed his eyes, "wearing a bedsheet? What? Did you come out here for an orgy? Do you get off on Peeta potentially losing his mind, Cato? Huh? _Do you?_"

"You're one to talk!" Cato fired back. It seemed that whenever Marvel picked a fight or acted like he was of a higher pecking order to everyone else, Cato couldn't stand down. He had to fight back. "You're the one who turned him in the first place!"

"Don't even start that you liar!" Marvel shouted. "How long have you been telling Peeta that you have to turn wolf before Undead?"

"I did it for his own good and you know it! Because you're unsafe and impulsive! You better count your fucking blessings that I'm not tearing your ass apart for turning Peeta without asking him!" This time it was Peeta's turn to hold Cato back. Thankfully the Undead traits in him gave him the strength to keep the older man back.

Marvel held his arms outstretched, the perfect 'come-at-me' stance. "It takes two to tango, Cato. Peeta wanted it. He practically asked for it!" Peeta wondered if Marvel was re-considering his current state of health. What hurt the most was that what Marvel was saying was true. It wasn't like he had been forced into what they did. Peeta had been a willing second party to what lead up to his being bitten. It didn't help that Marvel was beaming like he'd won the lifetime achievement award. Maybe, to Marvel, pissing Cato off was his lifetime goal and therefore by doing it he had achieved.

Cato pushed against Peeta, trying to get his chance to swing at Marvel for his big mouth. His Undead strength, however, was still able to keep him back. It was odd, being able to do something he had no hope in hell doing before. It was also kind of invigorating. "Cato, don't," Peeta murmured under his breath to sedate the anger he could feel broiling inside of Cato. "We should just go."

"Yeah, Cato, just go!" Marvel said. "Listen to your little bitch and do as he says!"

"What did you call him?!" Cato shouted. "Is the moonlight going to your head or do you actually have a death wish?!"

Peeta, somehow, knew that the full moon was getting to Marvel. He could somehow feel the madness the other man was feeling, weighing down on his brain like a thousand bricks. Was it the Undead telepathy? Could they feel what others were feeling?

"The moon makes them crazy?" Peeta whispered to Cato in confusion. He didn't understand. Marvel had been perfectly sane when they had chatted together during the last full moon. Why was he only going nuts now?

"Sometimes," Cato whispered back. "If the shine touched his skin . . . but that doesn't make sense, Marvel knows well enough not to go out during the full moon."

"He went out the last time and he was fine," Peeta replied.

Cato shook his head. "Bitterness has aged him," he said quietly.

"I am not bitter," Marvel called, his superhuman hearing even the quietest of murmers.

"He said bitterly with a bitter expression," Peeta muttered.

Cato gently prised Peeta's arm away from him, giving him a reassuring smile when he flashed a concerned look at him. He directed a surprisingly calm gaze towards Marvel and said, "Okay, Marvel, I'm going to chalk . . . whatever this is . . . down to the full moon tonight. If you go back to camp we won't say any more about it." Peeta was impressed by Cato's ability to smother his anger. It was obviously taking a great deal of his strength.

Marvel ignored Cato and fixed Peeta with an annoyed look. "You went back to him. _Again._ Even after I turn you first, my first ever chance at maybe not being second best, and you still go back to him! What do I have to do?"

"Why do you even care so much?!" Peeta exclaimed. "You don't want love! You said so yourself, Undead aren't capable of love! All you care about is . . . is . . . fucking! I'm sorry Marvel but I'm not looking for a fuck buddy! Not in this life, anyway!"

"But that's the thing, even when you are looking for a fuck buddy, you still go back to him! In my hundreds of years of life I have never been a second fucking choice!" Marvel shouted. "Except every fucking time you come back to the camp!"

"You can have anyone in your camp, Marvel," Cato said in a measured voice. "Anyone at all. You lead Glimmer on like a doggie on a leash and she gladly allows you to do so. She's a pretty girl, Marvel, and she'd do anything for you. Why can't you want her? Or someone else from your camp? Even chase another wolf if you have to! Why Peeta? Why him when you know I love him more than you can comprehend?"

Marvel stepped a little closer to the edge of the ledge. Peeta flinched, the image of what would happen if he slipped and fell into the water vividly playing out in his mind. The ledge overlooked the piece of water the moon was reflected in. One slip and Marvel would be toast. "Because I want to know what it is I have to do for him to want me more than you. Everyone else would gladly accept my company, put me first, but not him," Marvel explained. His expression darkened. "He always chooses you!"

"So everytime I went to bed with you I was choosing Cato?" Peeta demanded incredulously.

Marvel shrugged. "Cato always came up one way or another. You even screamed his name once when I was fingering you."

Peeta shrank back a little, imaginging how horrifying that must have been for Marvel. Why did all of this have to be so complicated? Why did he have to live so many lives, so many differing personas, so many personalities? Why couldn't he just be who he was now and not have to bear the burden of the actions of lives he couldn't even remember living?

"It's not a competition over who's better than who," said Cato. "Peeta isn't an experiment to me. I don't want to know what it takes to have him, as long as I have him close, I don't need much else."

Despite the serious situation, Peeta couldn't help smiling at that. He clutched the bedsheet tighter to his chest and moved some of it away from his feet so he didn't trip up on it. The annoying thing was that to keep the most private parts of himself decently covered, he had to hold the sheet in a way that left his left leg nearly completely uncovered. Even though it was better than having to stand there butt naked in front of Marvel, he still felt a little vulnerable to the lustful eyes of the Undead man incapable of love.

"I thought I was getting somewhere last night when I told him you were lying," Marvel said to Cato. "There was not a flicker of desire to go to you about anything and that's how I made my move. I kissed him and he kissed me back." He smirked. "Something else I got to do first."

"As I said before, this isn't a competition," Cato answered.

"And I'm not some prize," Peeta added.

Marvel shook his head in denial. He fixed his eyes on a point in the distance and took a deep breath. His hands were still shaking in anger but he didn't push the point any further. Peeta was thankful. This really wasn't the time for a full blown fight, especially with the moon out. "Why are you out here anyway? Didn't I say it was dangerous? And you're newly turned, that means you run the risk of being affected even more."

"We _were_ about to leave before you went off on one," Cato said pointedly.

"We get out of here then, before he goes crazy and we have to kill him," Marvel replied, using the same snide tone as Cato. They were like brothers, constantly at each other's throats and always arguing.

"You'd have to kill me?" Peeta asked, surprised. He knew that full moons turned Undead nuts but he thought it was only for a particular expanse of time. He thought it would be like drugs, there's a high but there's also a come down.

"It's how you've died before," Marvel muttered. He smirked and laughed dryly. "By Cato's hand, might I add."

"Shut up, Marvel," Cato snapped.

"Fuck off Cato, you got to stop this saint act. No one buys it. You're not God's fucking gift, you've got just as much blood on your hands as me!" Noticing Peeta's confused expression, Marvel said, "That's what comes with being old, you do things you will later regret. But because you don't die you're forever in regret. Living it over and over and over again until you can't take it anymore. Except when you can't take it anymore there isn't much else you can do but keep moving."

Peeta glanced at Cato. He was obviously affected by what Marvel was saying. Peeta didn't really get why. It wasn't like he believed that Cato was ultimately good anyway. No one's ultimately good. "You do realize it's not about what people have done in their past, it's how they deal with it now, right?" Peeta asked Marvel.

This made Marvel laugh. Peeta scowled, annoyed by his arrogance. "So it doesn't bother you at all that I just indicated that Cato may have killed you in the past?"

"By the sounds of it he had to," Peeta said. "If I was crazy because of the moonlight and there was no other choice." He reached out and took Cato's hand, giving a reassuring squeeze. "But the lies will have to stop, if this relationship is to go any further."

"Relationship? Seriously? _Already?_" Marvel laughed. "You barely know each other! You know him just as much as you know me. Which isn't much at all!"

"Didn't stop you from trying to have sex with me," Peeta muttered.

"Oh shut up, you wanted it," Marvel replied.

"Yeah, okay, you're right. But then you _bit me_!" Peeta snapped back.

"You should have asked!" Cato said. He was getting angry again, Peeta could sense it. Gathering the sheet in one hand, Peeta held his arm in front of Cato to hold him back. "As I said before, you're fucking lucky I'm not beating the shit out of you right now! You didn't think about Peeta or his safety when you bit him, you were just thinking about yourself and stitching me up!"

"Yeah, because everything's about you," Marvel sneered. "Everything's always about Cato and how damaged and hurt he is . . ."

Marvel's voice faded out as Peeta stopped listening. In the shadows behind the angry Undead man, Peeta saw Finnick come out of the shadows. His pale skin reflected in the moonlight but a dark shadow poisoned his features. His bronze hair glowed, shining like a copper coin. He didn't look happy, nor did he look annoyed. His face was completely placid and indifferent. Peeta didn't have good feel, his stomach sinking as soon as he saw Finnick there. Nothing good could come of his sudden appearance.

Peeta stepped backwards in fear, taking a hold of Cato-who had been scowling through the entirety of Marvel's rant-'s arm to pull him back as well.

Finnick leaned forward, his lips in the shape of an 'o' as he blew what would look like a gentle breath. As if a strong wind had knocked him off balanced, Marvel stumbled. Not just a small unbalance. He stumbled _badly._ So badly his foot slipped off the edge of the ledge and he fell off.

It happened all too quickly. Marvel's body hit the water, right on the circle of moon reflection. Cato shielded Peeta from the water that splashed from it, just in case it would affect him. A second later, Marvel burst out from the surface of the water, sending even more droplets soaring through the air around him. He roared-a loud, ravonous, animalistic-scream and whirled around to stare up at whoever pushed him.

Finnick, unbothered by what he had done, pointed his trident at Marvel and shouted, "Marvel Winters, you have lived all you have to live! It's your time to die!"

"What?!" Marvel screamed. Veins stood out on his arms and neck, thick veins travelling under his skin. "You can't kill me! I've lived thousands of years, you can't just kill me now!" He jumped out of the water and soared through the air with impeccable strength and speed. His fingers dug into the soil of the ledge and he scrambled back on top to where Finnick still stood. "I've seen you kill Peeta time and time again but you can't just waltz on up here randomly without warning and try to take me too!"

"There's a time for everyone Mr Winters and death comes without warning," Finnick shruggged in his usual nonchalant way. "Just because you're immortal doesn't mean you can't die, surely you knew that."

Peeta noticed, from his place across the way beside Cato, that Marvel's fingers had extended out into sharp claws and when he spoke, it was a feral growl. "You aren't going to kill me," he hissed."You can't."

"Anyone who's name appears on my list, I can kill. I don't question it. Your rotten attitude isn't really helping your case anyway," Finnick replied. "Goodbye Mr Winters."

Marvel screamed and lurched at Finnick, claws brandished. Peeta's heart stopped in fear. Could Marvel actually attack Death? Did the moonlight really make him that insane? It didn't matter anyway. Finnick was too fast. Fingers clutched tight around the shaft of the trident, the Bringer of Death stabbed the weapon forward so the points dug so deep into Marvel's torso that they pierced through the other side of him.

Even Cato tensed up at the sight, his face falling into an expression of pure horror. As fast as a life can begin, Marvel's flickered out. Finnick's trident glowed bright yellow before he yanked it out again and Marvel's body fell like a stone, back off the ledge and into the water.

"Did that just happen?" Peeta whispered.

"I think it did," Cato murmured. He was holding Peeta's hand so tight it felt like every vein was being cut off. Peeta hardly cared, Cato was as much of an anchor to him as he was to Cato. Besides, despite everything Marvel had been Cato's friend. Even if they hated each other, it would never be easy to see your friend murdered before your eyes.

Peeta looked up at Finnick. "Why?" he asked. "Why did Marvel have to die now?"

Finnick shrugged, closing his hand so his trident vanished with a sparkly pop. "People die, Peeta. Cato and Marvel aren't immortal in the terms that if they are stabbed or shot they'll come back to life. As long as they're _careful, _they live forever. It was Marvel's time to go."

"But he wasn't going to be stabbed or shot!" Cato replied. "He was fine!"

"Look, I do what I'm supposed to," Finnick said. "Marvel was due to die tonight. He died of insanity due to exposure to the shine of a full moon."

"Exposure you caused!" shouted Cato.

"It's in the job description," Finnick answered calmly.

A horrible thought suddenly came to mind. Peeta's fingers tightened fearfully around Cato's bicep and he met Finnick's eyes again. "If Marvel can die, does that mean Cato can too? Will you have to kill him sometime in the future?" Cato himself rose his eyebrows at Finnick as well, interested in the answer to Peeta's question as much as he was himself.

Finnick smirked. "I'm sure you'll both be glad to know that I've been given your death dates," he said.

Peeta's blood turned to ice. Cato pulled him closer, fearful to hear what the Bringer of Death had to say next. "And?" Peeta managed to ask.

"It's more than fifty years from now," Finnick said. "Congratulations, the cycle has been broken. You can live the rest of your lives together."

Relief flooded Peeta's system. He felt Cato relax underneath his hand as well. "What broke the cycle?" asked Cato.

"I don't think we'll ever know," Finnick shrugged. "Just be thankful for it." He winked and turned on his heel, disappearing into the forest again. The ledge was then left empty, as if he had never been there at all.

Peeta wanted to whoop with joy, glad that he and Cato had a proper chance at being together, but he knew that Marvel's sudden death had hit Cato hard and that celebrating right now wasn't appropriate. There would be plenty of time later for that. Eyes falling on the body floating in the water, half lit up by the moon and half shrouded in darkness, Peeta rubbed Cato's back and asked, "You okay?"

"I don't know," Cato answered honestly. Peeta knew he was probably happy about Finnick's news as much as he had but there was time to express that later. Peeta didn't know how many years Cato and Marvel had spent together, he could only guess how close they were to each other. Even though they drove each other up the wall, he could tell there had always been an unspoken connection between them.

"It's okay to be upset," Peeta told Cato.

"It happened so fast . . ." Cato trailed off, the moonlight making the tears that were edging their way towards the edge of his eyelid sparkle. Just as the first one fell, Peeta pulled Cato into his arms, hugging him as tight as he could.

Sometimes death was fast. You can control when or how it happens, it just does. No matter how old you are, what you've done in the past, how much history you have, death finds everyone. Even the oldest of people have to meet their ends someday.

It was just Marvel's time to go.

**A/N: Please R&R with your thoughts! **


	15. Fiery Inferno

**A/N: Sorry it's short but I wanted to give you guys another chapter asap. I'm not sure why but some of you thought that Marvel's death meant the story was over. Do you really think I'd leave you with so many unanswered questions? I'm not that cruel!**

**You're lucky this story is here to speak of! Last night I spilled tea all over my laptop and the keypad malfunctioned. I was thankfully able to save most of my files onto a memory pen and upload it all onto my new computer. But then there was another moment where I thought it hadn't moved to my memory pen successfully and I'd lost it all. Thankfully I found it all! You have no idea how grateful I am!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Hunger Games.**

Chapter Fifteen: Fiery Inferno

It was shocking how unsympathetic Marvel's clan was upon hearing the news of his death. They all attended the funeral, sure, with the usual somber expressions and crocodile tears, but once it was all over they went back to their daily routines as if their leader for thousands of years hadn't just died. As Peeta stood off to the side, watching the bonfire in which Marvel's body was burning in the middle of, he wondered what else the Undead clan lacked in. They weren't capable of love or sympathy, could they also be unable to form strong friendships? Find a soul mate? Care for their families? Understand each other?

"It's not their fault," Cato said, appearing beside Peeta as if by magic. The glow from the flames licked his face and lit it up, so bright Peeta could almost make out every line and crease. He couldn't look away. "The Undead mourn in the most peculiar of ways. I know it doesn't look like it, but they really are hurting inside."

"Then why can't they just show it and help each other through the hard time?" Peeta asked, tearing his eyes away and looking back at the fire. It was incredible, the fire blooming so large it reached the stars.

"Because they grow to believe that emotions are weakness," Cato answered. "It's how they're raised."

Peeta couldn't imagine being raised to believe that he couldn't search for help from others when he was hurting. "But Marvel was their leader," he said. "Surely that's a different matter."

"Not really," Cato replied. "They only see you as their leader. Marvel was just a guy who's just there for the eighteen years in between."

Peeta folded his arms to brace himself against the brisk night air. Even with the fire blazing away, Peeta felt chilled to the bone. Death had always had that effect on him. He had never experienced personal death as he was too young to remember his parents death and when he was fostered, no one close to him or no one he had known had ever died. This was his first ever close-hand death experience. And he didn't like it all that much.

"Who's going to lead the clan now?" Peeta asked.

A pause. Cato looked at him an imploring gaze, trying to figure out whether Peeta was being serious or not. When he realized he was, his eyes widened and he straightened up a little. "Peeta, it's you. When all this is over and the period of grief is over, you'll be taking over as leader of the Undead clan."

The period of grief was the 24 hours after an Undead citizen's death. The Undead believed that this was the amount of time it took for a deceased soul to find peace. Whether it be in another life or as a spirit watching over loved ones. It was kind of like a national holiday for the clan because no one had to attend to their usual jobs and the free time was used up supposedly praying for the deceased soul and its path to peace. Peeta didn't completely understand why a bunch of people who weren't capable of feeling grief would need a grieving period. It was kind of like people in America celebrating St. Patrick's Day just because they were one third Irish. Anything for a holiday.

"But . . . but . . . I'm not ready to lead," Peeta stuttered.

"I understand why you feel that why but now that Marvel's dead and you won't be dying again anytime soon, the only logical go-to is you," said Cato.

Peeta rubbed his sweaty palms on the sides of his trousers. Cato had given him some clothes which he had altered to fit Peeta's slightly smaller frame. "How am I expected to lead a clan? I've only been Undead for three days now. I'm not leadership material yet."

"It's going to happen sometime. We don't have a substitute for the substitute," Cato said. Peeta closed his eyes and breathed in deeply. He still didn't feel competent enough for to be able to lead a clan of expectant leaders. Cato noticed the younger boy's fearful expression and nudged Peeta's arm gently with his elbow. "You've done it before. You feel like you're incompetent every time but you always prove yourself wrong. You're a born leader, you just don't know it yet."

Peeta stared at the bonfire. He could faintly make out the outline of Marvel's body amidst the flames but the thicker the fire became, the harder it was to see. Marvel was slowly decaying, soon there would be nothing left. Peeta had never had a religion, his foster parents had never raised him on one, so he wasn't too sure on the whole soul reaching peace thing. He didn't know what to hope for Marvel. Peace in the afterlife? Joy in whatever endeavors he took part in as a spirit?

No one from Marvel's clan lingered any longer than they had to and by this point there was only Cato, Peeta and a few werewolves who stopped by to pay their respects. Peeta could stop staring at the bonfire. His eyes were stinging from the bright light and tears curled in the corners but he didn't stop staring. He felt like he owed Marvel something, since he didn't know whether to wish for peace or safety in the afterlife. He had to do something for him. Even if he hadn't been too fond of the guy.

"Peeta, are you going to turn into a wolf?"

Peeta finally blinked, taken aback by the question. Thankfully the tears in his eyes didn't spill over and dried up before they could. When he looked at Cato, the older man wasn't looking at him. He was staring at the bonfire as well. "Sorry?" Peeta asked.

"Are you going to turn into a wolf?" Cato asked again. His tone was flat, not filled with hope but not filled with total dismissal either.

"Wolf?" Peeta repeated.

Cato sounded sheepish as explained. "Well . . . yeah. I thought since Finnick said you aren't going to die any time soon I just thought maybe you could learn to turn into a wolf."

Peeta realized that he was right. The only reason he didn't want to turn into a wolf was because Finnick had hinted that if he turned both Undead and Werewolf then his name was more likely to appear on the death list. Now that Finnick had confirmed that they had plenty of time before their deaths, there was no reason for him to not learn how to turn into a Werewolf. Then he could lead both the Undead Clan and the Werewolf Camp. Maybe he'd have a chance of reuniting both camps. Merge both campgrounds together. He wasn't looking for the camp equivalent of world peace but there was no need for such distance between both groups. Even a little bit of serenity would be better than nothing. They'd have to listen to him, too, because he would be their leader.

On the walk back to the Leadership Cabin, Peeta couldn't stop thinking about this. The more he thought about it, the more excited he became.

"I want to become a wolf," Peeta finally decided. Cato's face lit up at his words. "I want to become a wolf so I can lead both clans."

"Wait, so ten minutes ago you were worrying about leading the clans and now you're determined to lead both?" Cato laughed.

"Now that I won't die, I want to make a difference," said Peeta. "I want to better both camps. Bring them together."

Cato winced. "I don't know if that will work."

"Have I ever tried it before?" Peeta asked. Cato shook his head. Peeta grinned triumphantly. "Then how will we know unless we try?"

"Will anything I try to say change your mind?" asked Cato.

"Probably not," Peeta beamed. "I mean, if it doesn't work then it doesn't work. I'll emigrate between camps." A thought came to mind. "Would you be able to come to the Undead Campground with me?"

Cato chewed on his bottom lip thoughtfully. "There was never a rule against it. The few of us who aren't prejudice do travel and mingle with the opposite camp-there is the truce after all-always come back safe enough. I think the only reason I never went with you before was because it made Marvel have a temper tantrum. Hopefully the others would understand . . ."

"If I'm the leader, can I come up with new laws?" asked Peeta.

"Well . . . I don't see why not."

"Then I don't see why they should have a problem. There's no rule against it."

Cato smiled softly. "It's astonishing how you never thought of it like that before," he said.

Peeta shrugged and sat on the edge of his bed. "I think when there isn't imamate death to worry about my mind expands to a lot more possibilities," he said. "Hopefully things will be better this time around. Maybe I can make things better."

The fire from the cremation ceremony glowed in the distance, bathing the wooden interior of the cabin in a cool orange light. Cato's smile was alight with pride. He stepped forward and took Peeta's hands, holding them both tightly in his own. "Maybe you can," he agreed.

Peeta smiled gently. "Maybe we can."


End file.
